Fate: Hero and Sword
by Parcasious
Summary: Left in a new world with hardly an explanation for his arrival, the only thing left for him to do was to keep walking forward one step at a time for those watching behind him.
1. A New World 1

The game YGGDRASIL was revolutionary in that out of all DMMORPG's (Dive Massively Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game) it was hailed as the best.

Not only did it contain an exceedingly large amount of content and versatility in gaming structure, it also allowed the player the freedom to act as they wished.

It was a game of exploration and innovation. Players could choose from a plethora of various classes, races, magics, skills, and abilities without care for future penalties involving said classes due to a unique leveling system. This leveling system itself was designed to allow players to explore undiscovered regions to find new things and bolster the community's interest in expanding towards the unknown. After all. The unknown regions generally possessed the highest drop yields of high-ranked equipment, and perhaps more than that was the possibility of discovering hidden dungeons.

That in itself was the treasure; for hidden dungeons contained monsters which dropped valuable data crystals that represented weapons and armours which could be used in game. There was even a bonus of ten-percent to treasure chests to first time dungeon divers of a newly discovered dungeon. Nonetheless, even if these dungeons were found, some were exceedingly difficult to clear, let alone for one guild or party to do so by themselves.

This point was the same even for Super Guilds with outstanding members. In which case, the concept of Raid-Bosses took full swing.

It would take countless numbers of players to even defeat one Raid-Boss and even then, they may not be able to do it. Raid-Bosses in particular were generally spawned in their own boss environments and were either assisted by swarms of minions or were simply insanely powerful and could continuously spam their abilities.

When such difficult bosses were encountered in game, they were generally referred to as 'World-Enemies.' The number of bosses alone that could be attributed to this category were above thirty-two.

Oddly enough however, that number was steadily increasing to the shock of even the game developers who couldn't understand what was possibly going on. It was true that the developers themselves had hidden a certain number of other Raid-type bosses that had yet to be found, but these new Raid-Bosses as termed by the players and gaming community were not in YGGDRASIL's original set program.

YGGDRASIL had nine separate worlds that represented the realms of Norse Mythology, and within these realms suddenly sprouted new dungeons and Raid-Bosses.

The Holy Kingdom of Camelot in Asgard.

The Land of Shadows in Midgard.

There was quite literally one for each realm, and if a realm was missing one, most players simply speculated that the particular dungeon hadn't yet been found.

It was only after months of trying to search for a program malfunction in the game that developers realized something astonishing.

The new dungeons and Raid-Bosses,

They were player-made.

Yet it was hard to believe even if YGGDRASIL allowed players to freely design and create characters. After all, there was no such feature that would allow a player to create something as absurdly powerful as a Raid-Boss and dungeon. The only way would be if the player were able to fully comprehend the true in-game script and alter it like a blue print. Yet this in-game script was not something with public access. Only developers would possess such a privilege as they were the ones to decide on new bosses and expansions.

Still, with the player community demanding an explanation, and the developers unwilling to admit that some player may have had compromised their game, the new dungeons and Raid-Bosses were expressed to be simple expansion packs in a later update.

Therefore, only the developers knew that there was a player in YGGDRASIL capable of altering the game. Generally, they would have had stopped at nothing to locate this player and ban him or her, but the newly generated Bosses and dungeons were racking in an absurdly high revenue. It wasn't even the challenge of these dungeons themselves sometimes that attracted players, but the life-like designs of the bosses created.

They were beautiful, breathtaking even.

Many players even challenged the dungeon just to see the bosses faces.

It got to the point where some even became infatuated and started to attack serious players who wanted to kill the bosses for their drops.

Regardless of the active discussions in the game community, the developers had to admit that this mysterious player added more depth into their game. Thus, they put aside their efforts to locate this player and just allowed him or her their freedom as this player wasn't jeopardizing their game in the least. Or even if he or she did, the developers just turned a blind eye due to corporate reasons of weighing the good and the bad.

This player was eventually dubbed as a legend by the game developers, and would continue to be all the way until the end of the game.

Because even the dreams of players had their end,

And so too did YGGDRASIL, the game that began the Stylistic Revolution.

* * *

The world of virtual reality was something Shirou never considered would be able to alleviate the sorrow he felt in his heart, but as he stood there staring at the mirror image of the woman he loved, it was enough.

It was an identical copy of Saber, Arturia Pendragon, from the night of all those years ago.

To her refined expression and elegant blue armour, it was all there. He wouldn't allow for a single defect and this was what made him utilize Structural Analysis when YGGDRASIL first launched to allow himself an extensive range of customization.

Structural Analysis in the first place allowed a magus to analyze the structural composition of an object. As his physical body itself was in contact with the Dive-Gear for Virtual Reality, it wasn't too difficult to gain access to the programing stored within. This alone granted him the access and privileges he required to create the NPC's before him.

Besides Arturia, there were several others that he had transported into his in-game residence before the developers of YGGDRASIL would close down the game. They were the other NPC's he had created and programmed using the memories of their personalities stored within their weapons.

It was a capability of his that stemmed from the very nature of his magecraft, Tracing. Not only could it recreate any weapon he had ever seen and store it within the separate space of his inner world, but it recorded the history of the weapon's wielder.

Hardships and happiness, struggles and ambitions, he understood everything.

Which was why, he alone was the most suited to creating the NPC's of the heroes whose honours and glories were fully known to him.

He stared at Arturia for a moment longer and then sighed before prompting her and the rest of the NPC's behind her to follow him down the hall.

He had created the other NPC's in fits of nostalgia and purpose.

The bosses of Camelot for example included the Knights of the Round Table created on behalf of the memories he had shared with Arturia in her rule as the King of Britain. Even if it was only a game, he wanted to recreate the glory of the memory Arturia had of the Holy City of Camelot and her faithful Knights.

It was just that he didn't expect that players would assume that she was a dungeon boss and begin attacking. Then again it was his fault for tampering with YGGDRASIL's settings and giving Arturia boss-level parameters to allow for certain stylistic designs.

Expectedly, he couldn't bear watching her die by other players and intervened by maxing out her stats and equipment; going as far as to replicate certain effects of World-Class Items and tacking them on to her designed equipment.

Inadvertently, he had created new World-Class Items which many players would then understand on a more personal level due to the number of times they were probably killed by it.

Holy Sword Excalibur became one such hated item.

Gae Bolg more so for undead players attempting to clear the Land of Shadows.

He smiled wryly at those memories, Arturia's example used when he made the other dungeons and bosses in tribute for other famous heroes. Being a participant of the Holy Grail War really did influence him, as he saw first hand the motivations of past beings of great respect.

He couldn't help attempting to recreate them, for his dream itself was to become a Hero like them.

An Ally of Justice.

For it was in this dream that he could find the will to keep walking forward, to one day meet her again when his duties were fulfilled.

Yet his journey was too lonely, too painful that even those around him could feel his sorrow. It was why a colleague of his during an assignment suggested YGGDRASIL to take his mind off of things.

At first, he wasn't exactly too interested, but when YGGDRASIL first launched and Zeltrech had given him a Dive-Device, he didn't really have much of a choice. It was just that he became addicted from the moment he had discovered YGGDRASIL's customization system, and the fact that in the virtual world, he could see _her_ image again at any time.

He hadn't stopped playing since.

And now it was all coming to an end.

This was why he had brought together all the NPC's he had ever created to his in-game base, a mausoleum made of hard granite and orichalcum, a common ore found in YGGDRASIL. The interior of the mausoleum had a wide space with an alter set at the middle which he used to rest on while staring at the NPC's he had dedicated days of time and effort to create.

On the stroke of midnight, he would be forcibly logged off as YGGDRASIL officially shut down. It was just that until then, he had decided to spend every moment he had left to stare at the faces of those he would never be able to see again.

There was only five minutes left.

And from then it became two, then one.

His eyes closed as he gradually waited for the familiar sensation of logging off in game, yet it never occurred. Instead, his brows knit together in agitation when he felt of wave of energy surround him and the environment.

Magic?

His eyes immediately shot open, trying to assess what exactly had occurred. He wasn't originally a gamer, but a magus who walked alongside death. Therefore, he was highly sensitive to magic as he was known for another name in the Magi community, the Second Magus Killer.

He couldn't count how many times he had been actively hunted by other magi hired by prominent families, but it was enough to develop a sixth sense.

Something big had occurred, and he was inadvertantyl involved in it.

His gaze scanned the surroundings, and that was when he first realized that he hadn't been logged out of YGGDRASIL.

Everything was still the same.

He felt confused on the matter but was certain that something did occur.

It was then that he noticed.

All of the eyes staring at him, facial expressions no longer set in flat data pixels.

His breath hitched, his mind going blank. Even in YGGDRASIL it was unheard of for players or NPC's to have any type of facial expressions. It was simply because facial expressions and artificial intelligence were not supported due to a lack of technology. Then how was it possible for the NPC's in front of him to stare at him with such fervour.

No, it didn't matter.

What did was that his attention was fully concentrated on the woman in front of him.

A woman with refined features and eyes the colour of the deepest teal.

Her lips parted, her mouth saying the words he had not known in years as his body trembled.

The words once spoken to him before.

The line he had once included in her settings.

Arturia stared at him in the face.

Her expression revealing her earnesty for an answer she already knew yet would ask anyway.

"I ask of you, are you my master?"

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Fate or Overlord.**

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **The next update will be the Holy Man of the Church Creek in a couple days**

 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


	2. Holy City Camelot: Prologue

He was in a daze even after she had spoken, and it was only when her expression shifted in concern did he realize that he was trembling.

He swallowed, immediately forcing his body to stop, yet unable to calm the storm within him. Ever since Saber had faded away at the end of the Fifth Holy Grail War, he had never once given up on his promise. He searched for her, knowing his efforts were in vain yet doing so anyway in hopes of a miracle.

As such, he had worked tirelessly, drowning himself in the ideals he had fought for while remaining resolute. YGGDRASIL had only been a means to help him cope by seeing her physical form again, but now, seeing the life in her eyes and hearing the distinctness of her voice, he was starting to imagine that she really was here.

But it was impossible.

He had already resigned himself to the hope that they would eventually meet in the next life, and yet, and yet-

"Master?"

A hand placed itself on his shoulder, forcing him out of his thoughts to stare directly at a pair of clear teal eyes, the concern within them bringing him back to the night he had last seen them.

"I'm fine," he shook his head, forcing the emotions down and entering a work-like state.

Like it or not, there were things that he had to understand, and losing himself in the emotions welling up from inside him would do him no good at present.

Moreover, Arturia wasn't the only one in the room.

Numerous gazes were focused on him. Some indifferent, others friendly, but the majority of them had expressions that belied their inner feelings.

He gradually became guarded, but he focred his expression to remain neutral. Of the various NPC's he had created that had become Raid-Bosses or Sub-Bosses in their specific realms, there were those whose personalities were considerably hard to deal with.

Based on what Arturia had just demonstrated, the NPC's of YGGDRASIL that he had created appeared to have actual life and feelings. They were in no way similar to the mere script and data cubes that they had once been before, and this was where the problems may occur.

If one had life and the strength of thought, one would have the power to make their own decisions and choices. With the various personalities and character traits he vividly recalled programming into the NPCs scripts, it was of vital importance to understand their stance regarding him. More so for the blond-haired man standing with his arms crossed at the corner of the room, golden-plated armour gleaming amidst the flowing red cloth hung at the waist.

Gilgamesh, the King of Heroes.

A man whose arrogance could know no bounds, but also a man that had earned the right for said arrogance through the legend he had left behind.

Shirou had created Gilgamesh not for any particular reason other than one that was purely selfish. The Fifth Holy Grail war had passed many years ago, and to recall the exact events that had occurred in only two weeks was an all too difficult endeavor. Yet seeing familiar faces let him recall such events far easier. The basis was the exact same as seeing the face of an acquaintance one had not met for a certain time and suddenly recalling all the information related to that person.

This was the exact premise behind Gilgamesh's creation as well as the others of the Fifth Holy Grail War. Only when he had created them in YGGDRASIL, he didn't expect for them to become animate.

Fortunately, the proud expression on Gilgamesh's face softened when he was nudged at the side by another individual. This man had long flowing green hair that parted on the forehead and wore a simple white gown.

Enkidu, Gilgamesh's only friend and an individual Shirou only had the chance of understanding after glimpsing the chains stored within the Gate of Babylon.

He steeled his expression as he took one last time to survey those in front of him before speaking.

"Who am I to you all?"

He had to be certain of their views, even if it meant asking them a question that caused their brows to furrow. Yet in the end, the answer was the same even for the most arrogant of individuals in the room.

"You are my Master," was the reply. After all, for everything that was said and done, it was undeniable that he had the put time and effort into making them. He was their creator and as such, their loyalty and bond level to him were already at a certain point without him having to work tirelessly for it.

Shirou immediately sighed in relief, understanding that the worst situation didn't occur. Only he knew how difficult it would have had been if those in front of him became disagreeable. If the exact game mechanics of YGGDRASIL transferred over to whatever 'this' situation was, then there was a reason why some of the NPCs currently in the room had titles like 'World Enemy.'

Gilgamesh, the Cheat Boss of Babylonia of the Flowing Sand in Jotunheim was a prime example.

Shirou had equipped Gilgamesh with his name-sake, the Gate of Babylon in which he had a copy of all available World Items in YGGDRASIL inside his vault.

All of them.

Words could not describe how overpowered that was in YGGDRASIL. To understand why however, one would first have to understand the significance of World Items. In short, they were YGGDRASIL's most powerful and legendary items capable of changing the balance of the game itself.

The fact that Gilgamesh had all of them had led many players to curse him even in their sleep. The forums alone were always filled with different players frustrations. There were numerous accounts about how Gilgamesh could crush a full hundred-man party with a mere swing of a sword. To make matters worse, when players tried to prepare for his dungeon, there was no guarantee that Gilgamesh would use the same World Item.

It was driving players insane.

Of all Raid-Bosses in YGGDRASIL, Gilgamesh was the only one left undefeated with only a few close encounters. The sole reason that prevented YGGDRASIL's actual game developers from intervening on the matter was that Gilgamesh was exceedingly imperious. If a party couldn't even meet his standards, he wouldn't even bother calling forth a World Item and instead would use something else in his treasury.

Thus, the optimum method to defeat the boss of Babylonia was to face him with the lowest tiered items and rely only on a player's skill instead, but it was easier said then done. Babylonia was considered a High-Level Dungeon and challenging it with mediocre equipment was difficult. Of the different races in YGGDRASIL, the Heteromorphic races had the distinct advantage in this case as regardless of which items the Heteromorphic races wore, the disdain in Gilgamesh's eyes was always obvious. Perhaps the biggest reason for this disdain was the notion of pulling out a treasure from his vault for a slime or a skeleton. As such, many Heteromorphic players generally banded up to challenge the dungeon. The Heteromorphic Guild, Ainz Ooal Gown, was the most ambitious for its members were the closest to defeating the boss.

Therefore, defeating him wasn't technically impossible, just unimaginably difficult for Humanoid-type players which comprised the majority in YGGDRASIL. But the reward was worth the effort. It was hinted by the developers themselves that Gilgamesh's expansion pack in YGGDRASIL was a means for players to obtain a guaranteed World Item upon completion.

By hinting so, it made for a reasonable explanation for Gilgamesh's difficulty as World Items were exceedingly hard to obtain.

Other than Gilgamesh, there were other such World Enemies present in the room, but none Shirou truly had to concern himself with for their personalities were far more amicable.

He released a breath, thoughts spinning as the others in the room began to murmur with one another.

These were all the NPCs he had taken the time and effort to create and seeing them like this caused his feeling to surge even with just Arturia alone. However, the one thing that troubled him was a glaring question. Were they the same people he knew, or were they just the representations of the programming and histories he had created?

Staring at Arturia's life-like eyes and expression, it wasn't a question that he wanted to know the answer to at the moment. Moreover, right now he needed to think without any distractions.

"I'll be back," he said curtly, causing the others in the room to simply nod.

"Then take care," Arturia said kindly. "Its never a bad thing to be overly cautious."

"Mhm," he replied, moving to the exit of the room and towards the dim light shining from outside.

Once he exited the mausoleum's walls and he knew that he was truly alone, the calmness in his eyes finally gave way to his inner turmoil and hopes.

Looking out around him at the thick canopy of trees and the mountainside that the mausoleum he had created was lodged in, he understood that the very world had changed.

The sound of scurrying rodents and cawing birds echoed out from the forest, the scene once again too life-like to have had been something YGGDRASIL was capable of creating.

With a single practiced motion, a finger flicked in the air, pulling down the familiar heads-up display of YGGDRASIL, a small panel filled with in-game options. And yet no log out option was available.

He frowned, unable to wrap his head around the entirety of the situation but he had enough supernatural experiences to not let his confusion mar his judgement.

Aside from the happenings regarding his created NPCs there was another glaring concern he had as he shot off into the forest looking for an isolated clearing.

Did the magics of YGGDRASIL transfer over too, or did he only have his own Magecraft to rely upon?

He wasn't certain and this was why he had taken decisive action, undergoing his first steps into a land in the New World that was currently divided into two factions. The North and the South separated by a gigantic bay that formed a side-wards U.

It was the territory of what was known as the Roble Holy Kingdom.

The Kingdom of the Maiden of the Holy Sword.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


	3. Holy City Camelot: Part 1

Back in the mausoleum there was a short silence before the majority of the occupants went back into the numerous rooms stored within the mausoleum's depths. They were somewhat like pocket dimensions often used in the various dungeons later reformed into guild bases in YGGDRASIL. The Great Tomb of Nazarick for example had been a dungeon that contained several floors leading up to a final boss that was eventually defeated by the newly formed guild Ainz Ooal Gown. These floors however, contained vastly different landscapes and environments that generally would not have had been able to be interconnectable in the same way as a desert couldn't exist within a tropical rainforest. Of course, YGGDRASIL was a game that could allow for such a thing, but the environments were generally rendered by different data crystals.

In this New World that everything seemed to have had been transferred to, these different data crystals that rendered different environments shifted into different dimensions found within the mausoleum.

Of the numerous NPCs that were once in the room, only a select few decided to remain behind, their gleaming armours and decorative silks eye-catching in the brightly lit room.

"Your majesty," A row of Knights gave their formal salute towards Arturia, the Raid-Boss of the Holy Kingdom of Camelot.

She glanced in their direction but didn't pay too much attention as her thoughts were still focused on the tumultuous emotions that had flickered across Shirou's eyes.

From her programming, she was generally a calm and composed individual who strived to build a Kingdom for the sake of others; a Holy land where the concepts of violence, hunger, and disorder were all but abolished. As such, she knew where her convictions and motivations lied, and yet when she had seen his face, for a moment, she had discovered a void forming in her heart. It was a feeling of loss and a yearning that she couldn't explain no matter how hard she contemplated.

Her lips pursed together, a crease forming on her forehead as she subconsciously glanced in the direction of the mausoleum's entrance, hoping to catch sight of his return. However, all that greeted her was a silent hall.

She closed her eyes, controlling her emotions, and temporarily putting them aside.

"Bedivere," she called out softly in the silence. "Did you see it too?"

One of the Knights standing in salute immediately reacted to the call: A man with long and tied-back blond coloured hair that wore silver plated armour that was a mismatch of leather and steel.

This man was named Bedivere, and the others standing from his left and right were Lancelot, Mordred, Gawain, Galahad, Tristan, and Agravain, the sub-bosses of the Holy City of Camelot in YGGDRASIL. Merlin himself had already left to another room, more interested in wooing the numerous other women he had seen within the mausoleum; their beauty too much for the fickle skirt chaser to resist, his latest target a lithe woman with long silk-like purple hair and wielding a barbed spear.

Arturia could only pretend that she didn't know her own Kingdom's Grand Wizard at that moment.

"See what, your majesty?" Bedivere replied puzzled, brows knitted together, believing himself to have had missed something substantial.

He wasn't the only one as Lancelot and the rest began to similarly think over the matter. As far as they were concerned, any issue their King would bring up had to have had some greater meaning.

Seeing the reaction of Bedivere and the rest of her Knights, Arturia decided to simple keep the observations she had made to herself for the time being.

"If you didn't see anything, then that's fine as well," she closed her eyes, before opening them again to see Agravain knelt before her followed by her other Knights.

Her brows shifted in surprise, but experience allowed her to maintain her neutral expression.

"I apologize on behalf of our negligence," Agravain spoke up after a moment.

He was a man with stern facial features and raven-black hair that framed his face down to his shoulders. Seeing the earnesty and loyalty in his gaze had never failed to reassure Arturia in her actions as a King.

"Rise, Agravain," Arturia said gently while placing a hand on Agravain's dark-tinted armour before motioning to everyone. "And the rest of you as well. There's no need to apologize for something that was too subtle to be noticed."

In fact, Arturia was convinced that she had been the only one to see her master's inner turmoil due to her close proximity, and yet she was quickly proven wrong when a boisterous voice echoed out behind her.

"You're talking about the sadness in the praetor's gaze?" the voice said. "Umu, these eyes of mine astound even myself."

Arturia stiffened for a moment, and actually felt a sense of relief. If it was only herself that had seen Shirou's expression, then who could say that she hadn't just been seeing things in the heat of the moment? Although she was certain of what she had seen, she hadn't been able to bring up the matter with Shirou before he left.

Still, why were the expressions of her Knights currently so rigid? Better yet, why was a flush working itself onto their faces to the point where Agravain grunted before shifting his gaze away?

Mordred herself was already openly laughing.

The thing about YGGDRASIL and the numerous NPCs Shirou had created in it, was that most of the NPCs rarely came into contact with each other. This was a result of the NPCs being made in different realms. Midgard was separated from Asgard for example, and unless the NPCs decided to move between realms through teleportation, interaction was impossible. The most the NPCs understood about each other was the general feeling that they had been created by the same person.

Nonetheless, for many NPCs that were present when Shirou had first gathered everyone, it was the first time seeing each other. Naturally, Arturia and the rest were no exception to this, so when Artuia finally turned around to see who had spoken to her, she nearly drew Excalibur forth at an impulse.

"Y-You, y-you," They were the only words that were able to come out of her mouth at the moment, and they were too garbled to make out.

The only thing Arturia was seeing at present was red. Red and an appearance that was almost identical to her own wearing the most revealing military dress that she had ever seen. The hem of the dress itself was basically transparent at the front and allowed all to see the tight white leotard worn beneath.

Arturia was visibly trembling, the heat rising to her face erupting like hellfire when she noticed the alluring and plump crevice from a hole located at the back of the dress.

She could see the uppermost region of a butt.

 _Her_ butt.

Perhaps she wouldn't have had cared so much if it was someone else, but the thing was, it was like looking at an image of her own body revealed for all to see like some prostitute. To the blond hair, to the petite figure, and even facial expression, it was all the same; making it all the more mortifying when she noticed her Knights glancing discreetly at her. Her neutral expression shattered in an instant, replaced by a vexation and fury none of her Knights had ever seen on her before.

The owner of the voice was Nero Claudius, the Raid-Boss of the Warring Empires in Alfheim, one of the most sought-after Raid-Bosses in YGGDRASIL.

"Ohh," Nero paused when she arrived around six feet away from Arturia and the rest, her eyes widening in surprise before smiling in confidence. "As I thought," she said nodding her head. "My genes are meant only for greatness."

"Shut up," Arturia said sternly, unable to take it anymore. "How can you be so shameless, look at yourself!"

"Hmm?" Nero hummed before glancing down at her body, a realization setting in as she laughed.

"Shameless? This?" She asked before shaking her head and pulling on the hem of her dress. "No, you misunderstand, umu, I _let_ them see."

Nero twirled on her feet, her ankles acting as pivots on the floor as a rush of wind and red petals were released from her hands, floating to the ground like a scene from spring.

"I am Nero Claudius, the flower of Olympia, Empress of Rome," Nero introduced grandly. "And you, my distant relative must also be someone of repute. What gallant looking military commanders you have."

Nero then began inspecting Lancelot and the rest while walking around them, Arturia left stunned from Nero's introduction. In the history and memory Arturia had about herself, the Roman Empire was one that even she had heard of.

The Great Empire that was once at the center of the World, and possessing a land far larger than what Britain could ever hope to encompass. In fact, Britain had once been a part of the Roman Empire, making Nero's assumption on her relatedness far from unjustifiable. Only, wasn't Nero, Emperor of Rome supposed to be a man?

Then again, King Arthur was also supposed to be a man.

The more she thought on it, the more similar she realized Nero was to her. However, Arturia refused to acknowledge it when once again she caught herself staring at Nero's attire. Wordlessly, she took off her flowing blue mantle and attempted to cover Nero with it, only for Nero to refuse her gesture.

"Why should greatness be hidden?" Nero asked simply in response to Arturia's growing frustration. It was then that Nero actually scrutinized Arturia with narrowed eyes. "I see, so there were a few differences," she sighed.

"?"

Arturia had no idea what Nero was getting at, yet a part of her already knew that she wouldn't like the answer, more so when she noticed the pity in Nero's eyes.

"Here," Nero pointed at her face, a smile blooming upon it compared to Arturia's steady calm. "And here," she then pointed at her chest, the twin peaks bulging out from an open U-neck.

"See," Nero beamed. "Completely different. Still, comparison only begets jealousy my distant relative. Take heart though, you must at least have a great butt as well."

There was a silence, before Mordred's laughter erupted in the wide space of the mausoleum, only for some reason, the radiance of the room had shifted into mots of yellow light.

Nero took a step back, but didn't feel as if she had said anything wrong even as the sword in Arturia's hands flashed with murderous intent.

Tendrils of light and Holy energy were beginning to suffuse off of Arturia's form in sand-like waves.

"Give me one reason not to kill you?"

The voice that spoke was far from the patient voice of the beginning. Instead it was biting and curt.

However, Nero had faced numerous adversaries in her life, and this wasn't the first time she felt such oppression. Therefore, she grinned before answering.

"We were discussing about the Praetor?" She said, returning to the topic at hand.

Arturia froze for a moment, but grudgingly put away her sword when she realized that Nero was correct, and it was her that had ended up shifting matters.

"You saw it too?" Arturia asked to verify.

"If you're talking about the sadness and uncertainty I saw from the praetor, then yes," Nero nodded. "Maybe he was simply troubled by something?"

Arturia pondered over the matter, but couldn't think of anything she or anyone else had done to sadden Shirou in any way. In the end, her silence was telling enough. She didn't know and wouldn't jump to conclusions.

Nero crossed her arms, brows furrowing.

"If even you do not know, then its best to let the matter be," Nero decided. "Instead, it's better to find some way to ease the praetor's burdens."

Nero glanced outside at the lush trees she could see from the open entrance of the mausoleum and paused. "And I believe this artist knows of a way."

Arturia raised a brow, using all her self-control, to filter Nero's attire away from her vision.

"Can you see the trees?" Nero said. "In the Warring Empires in Alfeim, the landscape had always been flowing fields and rolling hills."

"Indeed," Lancelot spoke up. He was a man wearing purplish plated armour, and had his hair cropped short at the top. "Even Camelot's landscape was different from this."

"You both are missing the point though," Arturia rebuked. "Do you not recall the master bringing us elsewhere from where we generally resided? It's the reason we were able to see everyone else that the master created."

Lancelot fell silent, knowing his King's words to be the truth. Yet Nero was different, she continued.

"If that's the case, then why did it seem as if the praetor didn't know the area either?" Nero questioned. She had been observing Shirou from the moment he had left the mausoleum and had seen the way he had paused uncertainly before entering into the forest. "Wouldn't it be best if we scouted the area ahead? As a ruling monarch, you should know the importance of securing ones location before resting. This is clearly why the great praetor went out first, yet we don't know the danger he may face."

"The master always was very considerate. It wouldn't be a surprise if he would brave danger in our stead," Tristan said thoughtfully, rendering the entire area silent.

No matter what NPC Shirou had worked on, all of them understood the diligence and care he had placed into making them. More so for Arturia who could recall how angered Shirou had been for her sake when the first Players began attacking her and calling her a Boss.

"As expected of the Praetor," Nero smiled radiantly. "He is truly one worthy of my admiration."

Saying that, Nero began walking towards the direction of the mausoleum's entrance, intent on aiding Shirou in his current endeavor. Arturia and the others however were hesitating. They remembered that Shirou had said that 'he'd be back,' hinting at them to simply wait for him.

When Nero saw their indecision, she paused before saying something fairly simple.

"Umu, it's his honour that his servants are moving for his sake and benefit, yes," Nero said before turning around and staring Arturia straight in the eye. "That's why would you rather remain here, or would you rather help explore out there?"

Saying that, Nero promptly left without another word, disappearing into the trees.

Arturia stood rooted for a moment, her Knights looking to her for instruction.

And yet she didn't say anything until another moment passed.

For some reason or another, a part of her was telling her that not only was her master a caring sort of man, but a _reckless_ sort of man too.

An image of a distant night flashed into her mind, one of violence and blood, and a fool who would intervene in a fight not even close to his calibre.

 _I want to fight by your side._

Her heart seemed to wrench in that moment, a sense of urgency taking root within her.

She winced as something in her very being seemed to burst forth, but she didn't care.

Instead, as Nero's words resounded in her head, she chose for once to forgo her own logic as a King and act upon the emotions within her.

She wanted to help.

And that's exactly what she would do.

* * *

The Roble Holy Kingdom was a Kingdom divided between its Northern and Southern inhabitants through a large bay splitting the areas apart. It was a sideward U with the North and South parties located on opposite ends of the U.

This created a natural barrier that maintained the balance of the two factions of the Kingdom and allowed for a tentative peace. However, such a peace was only brought about due to similar levels of military might. Should one side ever hold an advantage against the other, there would be no doubts that conflict would occur.

Recent events had already revealed the North and South's tense relationship when the North elected Calca Bessarez, a Princess of the Roble Holy Kingdom as the first Holy Queen. The Southern inhabitants protested against this sudden proclamation as Prince Caspond the eldest prince was more suitable for the position in their eyes. After all, Prince Caspond was the First Born and the rightful heir to the throne.

The rumours that were beginning to spread about Prince Caspond willingly giving up his birth right didn't matter. What did was the fact that the North ignored all voices of protest and formal discussion from the South and went along with their agendas.

It only helped that Calca was generally well received in the North due to her kindness, intuition, and the support of the Custodio siblings; One of which was even a member of the Nine Colours, Roble Holy Kingdom's strongest.

Naturally, the South was forced to stew in anger as their military forces were roughly equal with the North's where the majority of the Royal Family resided. Furthermore, a civil war was something that neither North or South desired due to the nature of their neighbors.

The warring tribes of the Demi-Humans of the Abelion Hills, an area filled with wilderness and mountain-like rolling hills that lied between the borders of the Slane Theocracy, one of the major Human Kingdoms.

Demi-Humans were always perceived as a threat by the inhabitants of the Roble Holy Kingdom. Not only were Demin-Humans generally more physically capable, but they each possessed unique abilities and magics reserved solely for their race. The most recent example in the Roble Kingdom's history was the invasion of the Srush, a Demi-Human race with venomous tongues and suckers on their hands. It was the main reason that the Sruch were able to bypass the Great Wall built around the Holy Kingdom to keep the Demi-Humans out.

Caught unprepared numerous citizens of the Holy Kingdom died before the Sruch were eventually forced back and new defensive tactics were implemented. Still, the new defenses weren't unbreachable, and neither the North or South factions of the Holy Kingdom wished to squander their reserve forces through war in the unlikely chance another breach by the Demi-Humans occurred.

As such, tensions remained high after Calca Bessarez was instated as the First Holy Queen, leading to the present situation.

In the South controlled mainly by the aristocracy and Noble Families, infighting had already begun to occur since even before Calca's election.

Power and Authority were the only things that seemed to matter in the Aristocracy's eyes, and many seeking greater influence wished to annex smaller or weakened Nobility.

Such was the concept of greed and ambition.

If the North could elect a new Holy Queen and ignore Prince Caspond's Birth Right, then the South could raise a sole figure-head to oppose the new Queen's rule and policies. A figure head decided by who amongst the Aristocracy had the most sway and influence.

Simplified, it was the Noble who controlled the most land, forces, and support of the others. Yet, which Noble didn't have pride in themselves to not believe that they were the worthiest to lead the South alone?

Therefore, even if the North saw the South currently as a peaceful collection of Nobles opposing them, the undercurrents of the South were far from tranquil.

Vincent Berferd would be the first to approve such a description.

He was a man with long flowing dirty-blond hair held up in a ponytail falling down past the small of his back, and possessing the natural grace of a Noble. For his family line was one of the first to establish themselves from the beginning of the Roble Holy Kingdom's founding near two-centuries ago. The emblem of the crossed spear and sword sewn into the mantle hung over the shoulder-straps of his current hunting garbs were enough proof of his identity in the Holy Kingdom.

A Duke, owning a substantial portion of land filled with his subjects.

Yet this emblem was the present root of his misery.

"After him, he went that way!"

Voices travelled overhead, gruff and hurried, mixed with urgency and the thumping of heavy footsteps.

Vincent slowed his breath, pressing his body down harder against the ground in the undershrub in hopes of burying himself within the leaves and foliage that proliferated unchecked in the wilderness.

It had been a traditional hunting trip passed down from father to son, and at the eve of his twentieth summer, it was his turn to take up the tradition. To hunt for a special kind of animal found in the wilderness that bordered the boundaries of the North. An animal called a blood wolf known for leaving behind the mark of a fang on the wrists of those that had slayed its kind, allowing other members of the species to take revenge. However, it was this mark itself that garnered the greatest honour to the Berferd Family for it would never fade and would act as a symbol of power for the Berferd Family head.

Regardless of how difficult it was to kill a blood wolf, Vincent himself couldn't shy away from the task for the sake of his father.

As such, he had taken an entourage of his personal guards and ventured forth to hunt as tradition required. Only, he didn't expect relations between the Nobles of the South to be so strained that they would target him in hopes of weakening the Berferd Family's strength.

Vincent gritted his teeth as his ears perked up to listen to the noise around him, waiting until the forest itself fell silent before shifting himself to a more comfortable position.

It was true that the Berferd Family's strength was already declining, but that didn't mean that it was because of a lack of management. Instead, it was a result of the changing times and the family's misfortune in regards to capable heirs.

Nonetheless, this wasn't exactly a point that Vincent wanted to think about at the moment as he deemed it safe enough to inspect his surroundings.

His entourage of guards had long since separated from, and were most likely routed and killed by the enemy.

His expression turned grim, mourning the loss of those who had been by his side since adolescence.

He hated it.

The fact that he was dragged into all of this.

In the first place, the Berferd Family had already raised its stance on the issues regarding the other Nobility in the Southern Roble Kingdom. They wouldn't be participating and would simply wait until a conclusion was reached no matter how long it took.

However, the Berferd Family possessed a strategic plot of land that acted as a buffer zone between the hostile Southern Aristocracy of one side, and the Aristocracy of the other. Their land was vital in order to tip the tides on any side's favour, and the Berferd Family had consequently neglected this issue.

After all, the Berferd Family was a family that fought alongside the original Holy Maiden of the Roble Holy Kingdom. The Valkyrie Knight Wielding the Holy Blade which fought against the Evil Deities that annihilated entire civilizations and Kingdoms.

There were certain ideals and iron clad beliefs that were solidified in the Family.

A concept carried by the Holy Maiden long after she had disappeared along with her Holy Sword.

The Oaths of Chivalry.

A Code of Honour passed down in memory through the Berferd Family line.

A way of living by virtue of trust and faith.

The Southern Noble Families had sworn to leave the Berferd Family out of the political struggles, and it was through tradition that the Berferd Family fully believed them.

Despite Vincent's current predicament, he never once turned his back on the values he was raised with, for he believed in the stories of the past spoken to him by his grandfather.

To remain a Champion of the Right and the Good, and to defeat the Evil and Unjust.

Believe in one's self, and those around.

Struggling to his feet, Vincent panted from exhaustion, but quickly limped off in hopes of escaping. The men that had been chasing after him for the past hour were still in the area, and any chances he had of surviving relied on his ability to send word to his father.

His feet hurt, the leather boots he was wearing doing little to stop the pain of the blisters sending acute stinging sensations throughout his body.

And yet, he persevered forward, relying mainly on intuition and the positioning of the sun in the sky to map out which direction to follow.

Minutes passed, the soft sound of feet rustling against the ground echoing throughout the forest canopy.

Before Vincent knew it, he felt a keen sense of danger that forced him to shoot towards the ground.

An arrow passed overhead, tinged with poison and pinning itself into the bark of the tree behind him.

"Cowards!" He yelled out, drawing forth his sword from his waist.

It wasn't a magic or Holy Sword used by Paladins and Knights, but one of regular make and steel.

"Come out and fight if you wish to kill me! What good does hiding your faces away like petty assassins do for your honours!?" Vincent seethed.

Silence, nothing but the sound of falling leaves, granted Vincent understood why the enemies were being so precautious. There was a risk involved should Vincent see the faces of his assailants and then somehow manage to get away.

It was true that Vincent was chased around before, but based on the clothing and personalities of his chasers, they were hired bandits at best. This archer however was clearly trained, and must be affiliated with another Noble.

They would not take unnecessary risks.

Vincent slouched in a combination of fatigue and helplessness.

"Why?!" He ended up asking. "On your Lord's Honour, an Oath was made. Will you break it so brazenly and without guilt!?"

This time, Vincent heard the distinct sound of a breath.

"Honour? Guilt?" The voice that spoke was smug, and was somehow able to emit from various places at once; possibly the result of a transmission-type tier-one magic. "You think such traditions are worth anything these days? Ambition and progression are all that matter, and the results can justify the means."

Silence.

"Oaths and promises?" The voice began as the distinct sound of an arrow being nocked resounded. "The beliefs and virtues of fools. Goodbye Lord Berferd."

The arrow was let loose, the poisoned tipped metal enlarging quickly in Vincent's view, but he stood still, unable to do anything in his bitterness.

The Roble Holy Kingdom as described by his ancestors should have had been a Kingdom of righteousness. The Holy Maiden, an example that should have had been used to exemplify proper character, and not split off into numerous other teachings like the Paladin's Order.

Where was the justice his grandfather had spoken of?

Where was the ideal Kingdom of the masses?

Why was it that all he saw through his life was one treachery after another?

Questions filled his mind, but in the end, he realized that he didn't care. He would live and die by the values he had cherished since his youth.

He resolved himself as the arrow drew near, but unexpectedly, it stopped just before it pierced his eye, an armoured hand gripping it by its shaft.

"As I thought," a soft voice entered his ears, calm and soothing, an aura of pale blue magic exuding outwards like a torch.

"I can watch this no longer."

* * *

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	4. Arturia Interlude 1

Nine Realms or Homeworlds existed within the game YGGDRASIL, the realms of the World Tree overseen by the Norse Gods.

Asgard Home of Valhalla.

Niflheim, World of Fog and Mist.

Muspelheim, the Land of Fire.

Midgard, of the Mortal Realm.

Jotunheim, of the Giants.

Vanaheim, of the Old Gods.

Alfheim, World of Light.

Svartalfheim, of Earth and Stone.

And Helheim, Land of the Dishonorable.

Each of these realms were massive, around three to four times the size of Tokyo with the difficultly increasing the farther one explored until only the keenest of players were able to survive. It was more likely for players to die before even arriving anywhere close to the outer reaches of the realms, making the known and challenging areas far more popular for those unwilling to brave the uncertainties of the Nine Frontiers. Midgard, the beginner area of the game for example had the highest population due to lower leveled monsters and enemies, and yet still had a substantial number of experienced veterans.

After all, YGGDRASIL's forums were filled with content regarding Midgard and its then recent addition of the Land of Shadows. Compared to a challenging dungeon already known and wildly discussed to contain revolutionary equipment and drops, the uncertainty and danger of exploring the furthermost regions of YGGDRASIL was lackluster at best.

Instead, to the dismay of the developers wishing to drive player expansion and colonialism in YGGDRASIL, player focus had shifted towards the 'expansions' which the developers were forced to lie about creating. Ambiguous answers and half-truths aside, the entirety of YGGDRASIL's developers had no idea how to explain anything substantial without feeling any embarrassment for taking the credit of another. In fact, a few developers even ended up laughing in bitterness at the result of constant interviews and chose to retire from the public scene.

The silence of the developers only filled players with even more interest in these new expansions. The Nine Realms and the Nine Hidden Raid-Bosses in their dungeons, the first of which had appeared in Asgard.

The Holy Utopia rivaling the grandeur of Valhalla.

The white marble-like walls that led to a massive inner gate, pristine and made with heavy oak, and the Knight of the Sun who stood defensively before it, hailing forth the rule of his King.

The Holy Kingdom of Camelot.

A fortress first discovered in a remote corner of the realm that had once only contained infertile lands. Passed the gates and passed the sentries that stood at attention atop the lookouts, and into the citadel was a medieval-like landscape of cobblestone and thatch, the recreation of a memory of a young girl's youth. A town called Bristol, where a girl was raised to be a boy. A boy to be a man, and a man to be a King.

The memories that were stored and only remembered, and the feelings within them, they were all expressed within the Holy Kingdom. An Ideal Kingdom of a King who served the people.

Arturia Pendragon, the King of Knights.

She who was known also as King Arthur of Britain.

Keeper of the Oaths of the Chivalric Path.

Arturia snapped the arrow in her hand, the two halves dropping to the ground with an audible thud, her eyes narrowed.

To fight on the side of Justice and the Righteous, to maintain the Vows of Knighthood.

Defenders of the weak, friends of the people.

That was Chivalry, an obligation born from character.

"You who hides in the shadows," Her voice was neutral, the sharpness of it piercing through the silence of the forest. "Are not fit to talk in my presence. Will you not show the honour begetting of men and reveal yourself, or will you continue to slander yourself as a baseless assassin?"

She was angry, but she wasn't fluent enough in using crass language to know that her insult meant nothing to her opponent.

As expected, no response came in reply, for what assassin would care for what their targets thought of them? Honours and morals meant nothing. In fact, it was impractical. If one possessed the benefit of placement, why would they face their opponents on an even ground when they possessed the advantage?

Silence resounded in the area, only Vincent's coarse breathing echoing out, yet the man himself hardly noticed. He was too busy staring. Too entranced.

The woman that had saved his life was beautiful, her hair the colour of golden wheat, her slender face, a light complexion that denoted her soft features, making her appear frail. And yet, she was anything but frail. The dignity and aura exuding from her was causing his legs to tremble in reverence.

Knight.

No, not just a Knight.

Holy Knight?

Paladin?

Many job classes existed in the world and Vincent himself could be considered to have two at the moment. High Noble, and Apprentice Sword Master. Similar to YGGDRASIL whose job types were categorized into Base, High, and Rare, the job types Vincent possessed could be categorized as High. In YGGDRASIL, each job type allowed players different amounts of level caps, Base level to fifteen, High to ten, and Rare to five. In which case, the max levels Vincent could work his job class towards was a max of ten each, granting him twenty levels when considering his current job types. Unless he found other job classes in the future, this was his predicted job limit, but then again, finding and learning extra job classes were far easier for the Humanoid races which possessed the majority of job classes.

Humanoid races also possessed racial levels, but the base racial level of humans were generally lower amongst all races. Therefore, their ability to hold multiple classes was more important for consideration when gauging a Human's strength both in the New World and YGGDRASIL.

The current situation was no different.

Even if Arturia appeared somewhat frail in Vincent's eyes, he wasn't ignorant enough to call her weak.

Her armours were regal, rolls of silk and fur mounted over an intricately designed steel-plate armour, standing out in stark contrast to the dull scenery of the forest.

It was why the job classes of Holy Knight and Paladin first appeared at the forefront of Vincent's mind, for the Roble Holy Kingdom was famed for its Paladin Order. Still, it didn't make sense. His family's status and title in the South was a Noble Duke of the mid-land between the North and South, as such, he was privy to information from both domains.

The Paladin Order of the North indeed possessed the strongest Paladins of the Roble Holy Kingdom, and amongst them existed Remedios Custodio, the number one in the Order. And yet, staring at Arturia, Vincent was certain that whatever level of power Remedios was at, there was no comparison between the two. Even the recent declaration by the Holy Queen to the South insisting that Remedios Custodio possessed the Holy Sword of the Roble Kingdom's National Hero seemed more like a joke to Vincent's eyes than ever at this point.

The Sacred Weapon of the Sword Maiden in some upstart Paladin's hands?

Vincent didn't want to tarnish the views he had on his Kingdom's national Hero so easily. Besides, he had met Remedios before and she wasn't the most pleasant of company, the sword at her waist too unassuming to him to be anything related to the Holy Sword of the Kingdom.

Instead, just by comparing aura alone, Remedios couldn't compare even with her fake Holy Sword.

The woman before him was someone Vincent had never seen or heard of before, not even in the Nine Colours, the Roble Holy Kingdom's strongest.

As such, who was she, and why was it that a woman of her bearings would protect him without profit? No matter how upstanding and traditional his family's ideals and principles were, they weren't fools ignorant of the world. Motive and greed were always hiding beneath warm exteriors, perhaps the current situation was no different.

Upon thinking of this fact, Vincent's mood dipped as the reverence in his eyes for the woman before him gradually faded.

In the end, Vincent was already aware that the time of honour and chivalry had already passed. As such, he resolved himself to meet whatever demands this woman would have of him for saving his life.

It was the way of the world.

Equivalent exchange.

And yet, no such thoughts were running within Arturia's mind.

Instead, what occupied her head were mixed feelings. She understood that she was already acting out on her own without consent or notification to her master and creator, but she couldn't stand by and watch any longer. It was against her principles, and her bottom line had been provoked when the honours and ideals she represented were besmirched by what she perceived as a mere assassin.

She could understand their profession and specialization to attack in the shadows, but she couldn't respect them for it. It was one thing to face her in person and state his views in opposition to her own, and it was another to voice out opposition without the will to reveal one's self.

Originally, she had left the Mausoleum on behalf of her master to help scout the area for any dangers and to also search for her master. As such she had dispersed her Knights around the vicinity to cover more ground while blatantly ignoring Nero who decided to return to the mausoleum after her scouting was done. After all, Nero had once ruled as an Emperor and understood that her ability alone wasn't enough to compete with Arturia and her knights, so she magnanimously left the task to them.

Within a couple minutes, an entire three-kilometer diameter was scouted out around the Mausoleum, and yet still no sign of her master. Therefore, Arturia and her knights pushed out of the known perimeter in different directions in hopes of locating their creator, but that didn't mean that she didn't have contact with them.

Her classes included Knight, Holy Knight, Paladin, Sword Saint, Sword Master, and most of all Ideal King.

She would stand for her convictions and beliefs without hesitation, for that was who she was.

"Will you not reconsider your choice?" She asked once into the soundless forest.

No reply.

She sighed, her narrowed eyes closing as she sensed another incoming arrow.

But this time, she didn't take any actions. The arrow that had arrived in front of her face suddenly deflected to the left, tufts of her hair blowing in the wind as she reeled in her magical aura. Everything was all too trivial at the moment.

When she had first caught the arrow aiming for Vincent's life, she was a tad apprehensive because she didn't have a gauge on the strength of the enemies in this New World and as such, had bolstered herself with her innate magical ability. Now though, she realized that she was merely overthinking things.

Another arrow fired and the same result occurred as she opened her eyes.

She was the Raid-Boss of the Holy Kingdom of Camelot.

A King.

Her armour and defense was too high of a level for even moderate leveled magical and physical attacks to do any harm to her let alone a mere arrow imbued with no magics or special properties.

"You've made your choice," she said, before entirely dismissing her opponent. "Your name will not be remembered."

Her opponent was hiding in the shadows, making it difficult to pinpoint his or her location as Arturia didn't possess a high enough reconnaissance and independent action skill, but she knew someone who did.

 _Tristan, I leave it to you._

One of the skills of the Ideal King, the ability to communicate with her subjects on a mental basis, a sub set of a commander-class skill set.

 _"By your orders, your majesty."_

The far sight of an Archer class was not to be underestimated. No matter how far Tristan was from Arturia, he was still able to accurately spot the man hiding in the trees. Moreover, although his job-class could be labelled as Archer or Sacred Archer, it didn't mean that he attacked with arrows.

He was the Knight of Lamentation, one of sorrows and regrets.

And his attack was one that was far from ordinary.

 _The signing of pain, of laments, the arrow that fired from the string of a harp._

Failnaught, the arrow that had never once missed.

In YGGDRASIL's standards, it was a single-target unblockable attack that could only be survived by tier seven class magic that allowed users the ability of Greater Teleportation.

It was an attack that created a vacuum of air that launched forward.

No matter the obstacle, and no matter how the enemy attempted to dodge, it was inescapable unless one was able to get out of range or shift dimensions.

The assassin in the trees stood no chance.

From the moment Arturia had turned her back on the assassin, the assassin had long since fallen to the ground, landing with a heavy thud from atop a distant tree.

Vincent had been breathless moments earlier, yet now he was forced to take in a heavy breath of air. He couldn't understand what had happened. One moment Arturia was facing his attacker, and in the next his attacker had died the moment Arturia turned her back on him.

He was left stupefied, but before he could reflect on it, he realized a pair of curious teal-eyes were staring down at him.

"I-I thank you for your benevolence," he stuttered out in a daze, trying his best to force the trembling of his body to stop. "I'm willing to listen to any request on behalf of your intervention."

"Request?" Arturia asked puzzled. "It almost seems like you wish to reward me," she said offhandedly, surprising Vincent who shuddered as if lightning had struck him.

"Is that not the case?" He asked uncertainly, the disbelief evident on his furrowed brows.

It was too unreal. He had never met anyone in the Roble Holy Kingdom who would do something without a motive. Even the Holy Queen may only come to his aid to gain his loyalty and a footing into the South. If the woman before him hadn't come to his aid for any sort of benefit, then what had caused her to step out?

"Will you really have me repeat myself for something so trivial?" Arturia asked, a rare smile coming to her lips as she realized that she didn't need to currently display the dignity of a King, but a Knight instead. "Besides, someone with your strength of beliefs should understand why it is that I would step out against injustice. For it is part of my duty."

The commandments of Chivalry, and the oaths of a Knight.

To fight on the side of the fair and the just.

Vincent fell silent, seeing for the first time that it wasn't just his family that held on to such impractical ideologies such as Chivalry. But there was no way that he couldn't remain suspicious of Arturia's origins. To begin with, the concept of Chivalry wasn't something known throughout the world and had only been introduced to the Roble Holy Kingdom through its national hero that had disappeared long ago. It was only those that had fought by the Holy Maiden's side that understood the concept behind it. As such, Vincent couldn't help but speculate which line of blood Arturia stemmed from.

He shook his head, a feeling of satisfaction taking root within him.

Regardless of what he thought, he was just glad that he and his family weren't the only ones to cling onto tradition.

"Then on behalf of myself and the Berferd Family, I thank you for your aid," Vincent composed himself and bowed in the proper manner of a Noble.

Unexpectedly, Arturia responded in kind, bowing in a similar manner as she had dealt with all types of aristocracy in her rule in Britain. It was just that her manner in responding to Vincent's gesture only furthered his suspicions of her origin as no commoner could understand the etiquette of nobles.

Which family did she come from? Vincent couldn't help thinking as Arturia inquired about his current state. Of course, Vincent held no information back from his saviour and explained everything, causing Arturia's expression to crease.

"You said you came with others?" She inquired of him.

He nodded his head dispiritedly. "I'm not sure if they're alive or not. I ran from them in hopes of drawing away our attackers, but aren't sure if I was able to draw all of them towards me."

Arturia nodded her head. "A valiant effort, but now isn't the time for rest," she said in praise, her intentions evident.

"You mean you'll help me?" Vincent asked softly.

Arturia stared for a moment longer before confirming Vincent's question with a nod.

She didn't know where Shirou was or what he was doing, but she had faith in her master. The only reason she and her Knights were still searching for him was because of their loyalty and the emotions Arturia felt, yet now a situation had arisen. Besides, a phrase had appeared in her head as Vincent had explained his situation.

 _It wasn't wrong to help others._

She was certain that her master would understand. It was a heartfelt sort of feeling.

* * *

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	5. Holy City Camelot: Part 2

The visuals and sound, and the textures and general feeling of the air brushing across his skin was all too uncanny.

YGGDRASIL was a game that was considered to have had begun the Stylistic Revolution amongst its large Player base, but it didn't mean that the quality of the data-bites that composed its system mainframe could be considered 'good.' In various aspects, it was like most other Dive game-companies, attempting to find a balance between practicality and sensory feedback. Auditory senses weren't much of a problem, however, the aspect of visuals was what made the quality of YGGDRASIL rank as 'good' when considered in the gaming industry.

It was without doubt, the best. Enhanced data crystals and customizable items allowed for player imagination itself to influence the appearance of in-game armours and NPCs. At the same time though, the images and player-tailored settings YGGRDRASIL was prided for was also its most glaring weakness.

Hailed as the best, there was no doubt that Players always sought after more. Improvements in mechanics and enhancements in visuals, being one of the main concerns as Players wished for the game to be perfect.

Yet they were asking for the impossible.

He paused in his steps, his eyes surveying the area around him before deciding to head up into the foliage to get a better vantage point.

The feel of the rough bark on his skin, and the sight of the crawling insects gorging themselves on the needle-like leaves of the conifer whose branch he stood upon had already far passed the point of YGGRDASIL's capabilities.

They were called fixed internal appearances in YGGDRASIL, preventing characters from displaying facial expressions and fine details. Here however, the quality was too lifelike.

His hands balled into fists as he thought back to Arturia and the others, before he shuddered.

It really was too real.

He shook his head, unwilling to think about it at the moment.

Truthfully speaking, he probably wasn't being completely honest with himself when he had decided that he had wanted to test his current abilities outside the Mausoleum. Instead, he was more likely trying to give himself some time to adjust to the situation; to not stand rooted in place just because the clarity of Arturia's gaze brought back bitter yet fond memories. Granted, he probably _had_ missed her too much to create the other historical figures that were almost identical to her.

Still, he digressed. He had already composed himself enough. All that was left was a silent hope that just maybe, there was something more at play than just a mere relocation.

His eyes scanned outwards, bronze coloured orbs suffused with dim magical light widening.

[Far Sight]

It was a Ranger specific skill designed to aid in their perception of the environment.

Ranger was one of the many classes he had access to as a Player of a Humanoid Race in YGGDRASIL which had two other racial classes aside from Humanoid: Demi-Human and Heteromorphic. In which case, Humanoid classes like himself had disadvantages in base stats and didn't possess an innate racial leveling system like the other two racial classes that allowed them to level higher. Instead, he had access to far more job classes, giving him a higher potential.

Versatility could be deadly, and the armory within himself was the prime example.

As a standard Human among the Humanoid Races, he didn't exactly play YGGDRASIL with the same intentions as other Players. He had played it as a means to ease his own pain of loss, and as such hadn't made himself well known, only taking classes and skills that would benefit the customization of his NPCs and sate his curiosity. Nonetheless, one innate racial class eventually landed in his character stat sheet upon his thousandth time defending casual Players from Player Killers.

[Hero.]

As opposed to [Overlord], another in-game racial class, [Hero] was a hidden class that was too difficult and obscure for most Players to obtain due to its lesser known requirements. Mainly the lack of participation of any questline or event, gathering experience to level up through conflicts that arose in the defence of other Players instead.

As he wasn't too interested in the game itself, he didn't participate in missions or events, choosing only to help others as was his personality.

He was perhaps the most selfless individual of all of YGGRDRASIL, in which case, maybe it wasn't just coincidence that this hidden racial class awakened within him.

The [Hero] class had no specific requirements for leveling unlike the [Overlord] class which had a heavy emphasis on Death Magic. To level the [Hero] class, what was required was simply Reputation, a value reserved solely for the [Hero] class and depicted at the bottom right corner of a user's field of view.

Unfortunately, he was never one to actively stand out. As such, he hardly leveled the particular class and had barely just reached the required Reputation to advance to the next level before his sudden transfer to this New World.

In which case, he was back to 'zero' in Reputation. Subsequently, any thoughts of understanding what passives and skills the [Hero] class entailed was placed at the back of his mind.

With [Far Sight] activated, everything became more detailed, a panoramic view of the area around him displayed in his mind for over a thousand yards. It was kind of like a mini-map that appeared within his peripherals.

It was all forest, birds and animals loitering in the shrubs as foxes and bears meandered near the far creak. Most of the surroundings were covered in the shade of the looming mountain and it wouldn't be until the sun eventually climbed up to its summit that light would pool in.

In regards to location, the place the Mausoleum had appeared in was fairly remote, not a single sign of any settlements nearby, but oddly enough, flickering torches of light appeared within his mind.

The indicators of life presence, a Ranger's unique skill tied in with other independent-action classes such as Assassin or Dark Kin.

Even if he couldn't see them due to the obstacles that were before him, he could sense them as flickering flames in his panoramic view granted by [Far Sight].

As he had observed before, the area was quite remote. As such, why were there so many others within the vicinity?

Unless he was simply mistaken and had neglected a settlement of sorts, it was too unnatural. More so when most of the flames were congregated into a large group waiting at the boundary of the forest around the mountain itself. The only distinct difference was a smaller party of sorts that had split off and entered the forest.

Odd as it may have had been, this suited him well enough as locals probably had a better grasp of the New World he had found himself in as compared to his own limited knowledge.

Scanning with his eyes again, he decided to head back towards the Mausoleum before moving towards the smaller of the groups that were within the forest to have a better understanding of the situation.

In regards to his earlier tests, he understood that he had access to the skills he had acquired in YGGDRASIL on top of his own magecraft which he had used in the Real World. He wasn't too sure what to feel about that fact, but in the long run, he wasn't certain about the strength of the enemies he may face, and as such, knew when to simply just count his blessings.

With the current strength of his level, it wasn't that difficult for him to return to the Mausoleum with post haste.

Upon arrival however, he noticed that everything wasn't exactly how he had left it.

A woman was standing at the entrance, arms crossed beneath her chest and expression smug as if waiting to be praised. It was a combination of a smile and not a smile, conflicting views causing her to be uncertain of what she should do. She was stuck with the concept of whether she should or shouldn't gloat for something that she had done and that he was unaware of.

She was the Red Rose of Rome.

The Flower of Olympia.

Nero Claudius.

And in the end, he simply walked by her.

She stiffened almost immediately, the expectation in her eyes faltering before she convinced herself that he must have had made a mistake. She promptly coughed into her hands to bring attention to herself.

"Ahem,"

She bowed her head, ready for her efforts to be acknowledged as proper, yet was once again left waiting.

She glanced up, only to see that he had walked even further from her.

Her lips trembled uneasily, but she was too prideful to act as if her earlier actions hadn't existed. Therefore, she quickly began to grow desperate. She dashed in front of him, her stern glare meeting his gaze in admonishment. The only thing though was that her expression was the farthest from anything resembling stern or admonishing.

She looked as if she was going to cry, and at this point it was too hard for him to ignore.

He composed himself from the difficulty of seeing her face and not thinking about his own past. Fortunately, she and Arturia were still different individuals, making it easier. Then again, he designed and programmed Nero, so there was no doubt that he understood her personality. It was just, it appeared as if she was acting with more life than she had in YGGDRASIL and he already feared what effect that had.

Nero wasn't very strong for a Raid-Boss. She was never designed to be. Instead, it was all based on character traits and charisma. Of course, she had the base stats of an average Raid-Boss, but her main strength came from the number of Players that were swayed by her words and actions and actively fought to prevent the fall of the Maiden Emperor of the Warring Empires in Alfheim,

She was boisterous, arrogant, and pretentious, but of all Raid-Bosses in YGGDRASIL she had never actively attacked Players and instead greeted them in another manner, hand outstretched.

 _"Will you lead as one of my Cohorts, young warrior?"_

Rather than her attacking them, she had even protected them from other local monster, repaying animosity with security, and violence with equal respect.

That was Nero, Emperor of Rome. Raid-Boss of the Warring Empires in Alfheim.

She who loved in a manner unable to be understood by anyone. Her vision of Rome, the flag that many Players fought under to the bitter end.

She was just too lifelike. A real personality and presence that seemed to surpass the mere mechanics of YGGDRASIL and ascend to something Players isolated in life or not realized was precious.

If he wasn't the only Player to have transcended worlds and crossed over, he could already imagine the heralding of the Standard.

The Aquila.

The symbol of the Eagle that united Players under the banner that was Nero's Rome.

Still, staring at the satisfied expression that came over Nero's face from the moment his hand started rubbing her head, it was hard to imagine her as the charismatic leader in the game and far easier to see her as a spoiled child. Be that as it may, that may have had been part of her charm.

A tyrant yet compassionate.

Obstinate, yet willing to concede when times dictate it.

 _"Fine, leave. It's not like I needed you."_

His lip twitched, an image appearing in his mind that shattered his earlier conjecture. A huffing face on the verge of tears, unwilling to admit to a mistake.

Or maybe still just a child. Either way, that was the Nero he had recreated from history. The one who was presently sighing in content under his palm.

"Umu," she said, her bob-cut hairstyle growing slightly disheveled, but still appearing pristine like silk. "I did well I did."

"Mhhmm," he hummed, not comprehending what he should be praising her for, but doing so anyway when he noticed how happy she appeared.

"Yes yes, you finally understand my greatness now don't you, Praetor?"

She turned her face towards him, anticipation evident in her eyes.

Unfortunately, it was time he got his answers.

"What exactly did you do?" he asked, watching as Nero visibly deflated.

"Umu," she muttered to herself before facing him. "It would seem that it was too much for me to assume that you'd know even without me telling you, but as the supreme Praetor I had hopes. Very well, now listen closely. It was your honour that this Emperor decided to act and instigate my distant relative into action on your behalf."

"Huh?"

His lip twitched. Now that he thought about it, the group of Knights and a King he had left behind were strangely absent. Contrary to the discipline that they were known and programmed for, they hadn't remained behind to await his return.

It was a shocking realization that caused him to stiffen for its significance couldn't be ignored. Arturia and the others, they weren't just the simple lines of text and script that he had made them from, but seemed to be actual people. Based on the in-game script alone, no matter what Nero would have had done, the Duty and Responsibility of Arturia's settings wouldn't have had been swayed. It was similar to old RPGs where no matter how many times one talked to an NPC, the dialogue would never change. In this case though, it did.

Arturia, through her own decision, led herself and her Knights out to scout the surrounding vicinity based on Nero's words.

Her actions were human, involving thought process and mental choice.

Therefore, didn't that mean it was the same for all the other NPCs he had created? It was almost like a new life for them. The histories that they were comprised of dictating their strengths and abilities. Recreating the figures lost in the annals of history.

Thus, Arturia would be identical to the Arturia he had known for he understood her the most, and spent the longest time with her.

He forcibly cut off that trail of thought, for he didn't know what he might have had done as a result.

Nonetheless, he understood at the moment what he had to do.

Nero stared blankly at him in confusion, somewhat concerned for his sudden stillness, lips pursing.

It was exactly because of the human expression on Nero's face that solidified for him what he was going to do from now on. He had created all these NPCs, therefore he would protect them and let them experience the life that their past responsibilities barred them from.

This was a chance.

Fake as it might be, subconsciously, it was still a way to help him cope. To see the joy on the face of the woman he loved once more. That alone was enough.

"Are you alright, Praetor?" Nero finally asked in concern.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said, scratching at the back of his head.

Everything just felt so surreal at the moment, yet his years working in his profession had allowed him to lock onto finer details.

If Arturia and her Knights were just scouting the area, then they would do so in a circular perimeter, making their search distance smaller than his own which reached the edge of the forest. Therefore,

"You said they left earlier, right?" He questioned slowly while recalling the current state of the forest around.

Nero nodded.

"Then why aren't they back yet?" Was all that he asked.

Nero's expression blanked.

* * *

It was a solemn sort of silence; the kind Vincent had never really experienced due to his standing as an heir of the Berferd Dutchy. After all, he had never been the one to initiate the conversation, but rather those that wished to create ties with him did instead.

It was a rather jaded lifestyle that he had unknowingly gotten used to, leaving him tongue tied as he stared at the small back walking just ahead of him. It was almost unbelievable to imagine that the woman before him was the person who had just saved him.

Small of stature, but possessing an integrity and duty greater than any other.

The sound of her small steps pressing against the ground were rather heavy compared to his which were rather soft-sounding in the tranquil silence. Then again, her heavy armour must have had weighed her down far more.

He had heard of many women in the Roble Holy Kingdom aspiring to be Paladins or Holy Knights in hopes of matching the legend of the Kingdom's National Hero, the Holy Maiden and Valkyrie of Roble, but the woman before him was far more.

With the means she had exhibited earlier, he was certain that Gustav Montagnés or Remedios Custodio, premiere Holy Knights of the Kingdom, wouldn't even be able to hold a candle to her.

He really wanted to find something to talk about at the moment, yet he really was at a loss about what to say even after she had so righteously offered her aid on his behalf.

As it would turn out though, it wasn't something he himself was going to initiate. It was her instead.

"Where exactly is this place?" Arturia asked, gaze shifting back towards Vincent.

If anything, she had slowly come to realize that Vincent was literally a walking source of information. Just like Shirou, she too wasn't familiar with the current location and Vincent's information may prove useful.

More importantly, a part of her was urging her to find ways to help ease Shirou's burdens.

Her question, however, caught Vincent by surprise.

"You don't know where we are?" He asked befuddled.

Expression stoic, Arturia eventually explained that she had lost track of her surroundings while out training for experience.

Vincent stared at her for a while with slight doubt but still explained that they were in the midst of the Roble Holy Kingdom located southwest of the Re-Estize Kingdom.

Expression remaining as it was, Arturia made sure not to give anything away. In fact, the terminologies Vincent used himself were too foreign for her to understand. To begin with, she didn't even know what the Re-Estize Kingdom was. Still, the amount of background she was able to garner would help her out in the long run.

Unfortunately, she was bound to err due to her current lack of knowledge.

"You don't even know where the nearest village is from here?" Vincent said in surprise.

She frowned, but couldn't deny Vincent's inquiry. Instead she could only be truthful.

"Growing up," she began slowly. "I was raised in hiding for my own protection. Sir Ector, my Guardian at the time never stayed too frequently in well known towns and settlements. Other than in my childhood, I was raised in general isolation."

When she spoke, it was with a tranquility and solemnness that stunned Vincent for he couldn't comprehend where the regality of her aura originated from.

He swallowed, glancing away as he felt shameful that he may have had brought up difficult memories.

"Sorry for being inconsiderate," he immediately acted to correct his mistake.

He was never an indecisive person and was keener on being straight forward. In a political sense it wasn't in his best interest as an heir of a dutchy, but he never liked politics anyway. He already had plans to delegate such tasks to a loyal follower more adept at the art.

Arturia smiled lightly, the edges of her lips creating small dimples that added to her character.

"You are a good man," she complimented. "Sir Ector had always warned me in my youth about Nobles who speak with two faces, yet its clear to me that you speak only with one."

"Ah yes, well, I'll just take that as a compliment," Vincent said uncertainly, yet inwardly he felt pleased with himself.

Still, he knew when to be serious and when not to be.

Eyes glancing around, it was with clarity that he recalled that he was nearing the place where he and his entourage had been sneak attacked.

"Careful, it's just up ahead," he warned.

Arturia's expression shifted back into a calm slate. She had already thought everything out after agreeing to help. Using her last encounter with the assassin earlier as a basis, she theorized that the relative strength level of her adversaries wasn't enough to bypass her innate physical defences. However, her past experiences in her memoires and her intuition were warning her to never take anything for granted.

Consequently, she raised a hand and decided to play it safe.

"Wait here for a second," she whispered.

Communicating inwardly, she tasked Tristan with scanning ahead. Of all her Knights of the Round Table, she had only taken Tristan from out of the perimeter they had set up around the Mausoleum. Lancelot and the others were more proficient in combat rather than recon which was why she chose Tristan to accompany her in the shadows due to his Independent Action, Archer, and Ranger Class.

The news she received from him moments later was rather grim.

"There's a large congregation of men just outside the forested region of this mountain, friends of yours?" She inquired doubtfully.

Vincent's expression darkened as he cursed. "No," he said flatly.

Although he didn't know how Arturia was able to garner such information, he had already chosen to trust her and he wouldn't go back on his word. Arturia's natural charisma probably had a lot to do with it.

However, if what Arturia said was true, then his situation was hopeless.

"Those damn bastards," he clenched his teeth. "Do they wish for power and influence so much that they would condemn a fellow countryman?!"

He was venting and he knew it, and yet what else was he supposed to do?

"The only good new I can tell you is that the people that followed you on this hunting trip were let go back into the forest in hopes of luring you out," Arturia explained, listening silently to Tristan's reports and deductions. "Yet this plan backfired as your men chose to bitterly toss themselves into the rapids to make their escape."

"Serves the bastards right," Vincent complexion brightened somewhat, but he still wasn't very hopeful.

No matter how high a regard he had for Arturia at the moment, he understood that even famed Holy Knights like Remedios would have trouble facing numerous opponents. More so when he had already deduced that they wouldn't be just standard mercenaries, but trained soldiers instated by other powerful Noble Families.

"Is there any chance I could use the same method of the river to escape?"

Arturia shook her head.

"The river is being attended by rotating sentries. You won't get close before getting spotted."

Vincent closed his mouth before placing his back against a tree and falling into a seated position. His hands ran through his hair trying to think, but no matter what he wasn't able to come up with anything.

"Was it wrong for me to not have chosen a side?" He muttered with a tinge of regret.

He hadn't intended for Arturia to hear it, but her enhanced senses made that notion impossible.

Teal eyes stared across at him in curiosity before words exited a mouth.

"Why are you being hunted down?" Arturia inquired.

At first, she hadn't been very interested, but after taking note of Vincent's character, she decided that he wasn't an individual that she wanted to see die without reason.

Reluctantly, Vincent explained the current situation of the Southern Kingdom and the numerous disputes between the Nobility vying for power.

Meanwhile, Arturia only listened silently, not commenting and only nodding when Vincent expressed his view to remain neutral from the political fighting.

When Vincent finally finished and Arturia understood the entirety of the events, she couldn't help but frown.

This was too cruel. Of course, in her time of ruling in Britain, the majority of Nobility were united in their goal to drive of the Saxon, Angle, and Jute invaders, but despite some hostilities they were still able to put up with each other.

Vincent's situation however was simply going too far. As such, she made up her mind.

"Do not give up hope on your beliefs," she spoke with conviction, causing Vincent to focus on her.

What he saw nearly made him gasp in surprise if not for the fact that he was too shocked to even breath.

A light that was a crystallization of dreams. Sand-like particles glowing radiantly as they gathered to a central point.

Soft warm winds began to pick up, like the gentle heat near the foot of a hearth.

It was a light that was otherworldly. An aura like none other.

"If you can't put your faith in me," she said softly at barely even a whisper, her arms gently unsheathing a blade from its scabbard. "Then put your faith in this sword."

* * *

 **Thanks for Reading and thanks to my newest Patron: Samuel!**

 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


	6. Holy City Camelot: Part 3

From the moment Arturia drew forth her sword, to the moment she promptly sheathed it, barely a few seconds had passed.

Yet it was enough.

The light of Excalibur was the light of dreams. A crystallization of unfading hopes and ambitions unchanged regardless of the passing of eras. It was the Holy Sword of the Fae, granted to the Lady of the Lake for self-keeping, and then to the King of Knights.

Within its lustrous blade was an unfathomable might; a strength tying into that known only in deep seated legends with roots stemming to the properties of the world itself.

Despite it being the very sword Shirou had designed for her in YGGDRASIL using the basis of a World Item, something had become different about it after traversing to this New World. It seemed grander, more illustrious, and bearing a greater purpose than what it had bore in the game.

Perplexed, she had sheathed it on an impulse, but even still, its intended use was effective.

"W-What is that sword?"

Vincent's voice came out in a stutter, the cloud of depression and sorrow hanging over him fading away as if it were never there. He straightened his back from where he was leaning it on a tree, attention focused solely on the sheathed sword still in Arturia's hands. The feeling he had felt upon laying eyes on the sword was indescribable. It was a blend of a tender light, with the ferocity and bearings of the foretold might of the ancient Paladin-class that had long since died out with the rest of the Players in history.

It was only proper that Vincent grew immensely curious.

However, his answer was met by silence, Arturia's lips thinning as she frowned lightly before shaking her head. It wasn't that she couldn't explain what Excalibur was, but at the moment, she herself wasn't exactly too sure. More so with the inexplicable emotions contained within her. She wouldn't so easily make any assumptions.

Understanding that he wouldn't be getting a response, Vincent didn't force the subject and instead closed his mouth, unwilling to infringe upon the tacit calm of the moment. Rather, even if he wanted to press for answers, he knew that his time was better spent contemplating his situation. The further he thought though, the more helpless he became, the temporary peace of mind Excalibur had brought him gradually losing its effect.

Just as Arturia had said, he could indeed place his faith in that Holy blade, but his faith could only take him so far. What Vincent needed was resolve, and how could a King who had led countless Knights and soldiers to battle not be able to see that?

"You are thinking too much," Arturia spoke, interrupting Vincent's train of thought before approaching sternly.

The clanking of her armour was echoed only by the force of her steps, leaving behind detailed imprints on the mud over the ground. Oddly enough, not one piece of mud or dirt was able to stain the steel of her greaves or the fabric of her flowing mantle as if the world itself thought it a sin.

Although Vincent took note of this minor detail, it wouldn't be something that he would be awe struck by until later when he would return to the Berferd Dutchy. At present, he was too busy to care while being solemnly glared at by such enchanting teal eyes.

"You think that your situation is unfair or hopeless?" Arturia's lips pressed firmly together as she spoke. "That giving in is the only option you have left when things get too difficult?"

Arturia grimaced, her teeth grit together as her cheeks raised.

"I have seen _worse_. A world where men kill men not because of politics and petty squabbles, but to secure a living. In comparison, a single routing from your enemies shouldn't be enough to shake your will and your courage."

Vincent stared, before clenching his jaw and swallowing.

"You don't understand how it's been with the Aristocracy," Vincent countered. "This may look to you like a simple routing, but far from it, numerous other Noble families may have had a hand in this matter for mere short-term gains. It won't end with just this routing, let alone if I'm able to escape it."

Veins were bulging from Vincent's neck due to the heatedness in which he spoke. One could only push someone so far before anger became natural, and the way the other nobility had planned things infuriated him. Of all the times they could have chosen to attack him, it had to be in the instance where his father's influence or his own could not shield him. It was tradition in the Berferd family. No help would come to aid the undertaker in the trial of the Blood Wolf.

Fine, he could accept that, but to send so many people against just himself and a small entourage of men and women, how shameless could the other side get?

The filth and cunning of his treacherous associates of the Aristocracy could never be truly understood by an outsider.

Only, the somberness in Arturia's gaze quelled Vincent's building frustration like a bucket of water over his head. There was a sadness and empathy present not only in her features but in her very disposition. Her glare eased, changing into something wistful, sedate, as her gaze seemed to blur. It almost made Vincent feel guilty of what he had said.

She didn't seem as if she was staring at him, but instead at a distant past.

"You say I do not understand, Vincent Berferd, but I do," she muttered lowly.

The memories within her mind revealed a childhood and adolescence plagued by conspiracy and deception. Unable to step out into the light, and unable to be like the rest; never making a single friend until the day she shed her identity as a villager and took forth the Sword of Selection. Even then, she had always been the target of her very own elder sister, the Witch, Morgan Le Fay.

In regard to Vincent's troubles, she could understand them all too well, for she had experienced the same.

"I really do."

The surety, depth, and sentiment in Arturia's voice was unquestionable.

Vincent was stunned, mouth closing as shame filled him, making him glance away. Yet Arturia would not have it. Not now.

"Raise your head," she said. "You are a Noble, and should know never to bow your head lightly. Not for someone like me."

The very King who eventually led her Kingdom to its ruin despite the legend of her name.

Arturia pursed her lips before putting away the bitterness that welled from within her.

"Raise your head, Vincent Berferd!"

Her countenance once again grew serious, the sudden shift jolting Vincent to stare up.

There he saw the sight of an individual not angry at him, but on his behalf, no ulterior motives to be found.

"Do not give up so easily. It's because I've experienced a similar situation that I can say this with confidence," she said as she knelt down where Vincent sat; a resolution to her that made it seem as if she was bathed in a divine light.

"Should a time come when the world itself has degraded to a state of corruption where petty greed and profit stand above all morals," Gently, slowly, she extended a hand forth; lightly tapping Vincent's chest at the location of his heart before pulling back and tapping over her own.

"Believe in honour."

She tapped his left shoulder next.

"In duty."

Then his right shoulder.

"In oaths."

She pulled back, clenching her hand into a fist which she placed over her chest.

"And in integrity."

Silence, the serenity of it all captured solely by the eyes of nature, and the man whose heart and convictions were thoroughly moved. Not a word could leave Vincent's mouth, not even if he tried.

Nodding her head solemnly, Arturia stepped back onto her feet and looked down at the man before her.

"Do so Vincent Berferd, and I guarantee you that you shall never fall into despair, and never lose your way again."

Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, but it was all too clear in Vincent's ears, his unease giving way to a reverence within him that Arturia would never have had been able to imagine.

In the Roble Holy Kingdom, it wasn't the Royal Family that had the most influence, but the Holy Knights who supported the Royal Family. In which case, there was only one reason the Holy Knights would be held in such high regard.

The National Hero of the Holy Kingdom and the ideals and character she represented.

At present, the individual known as the Valkyrie of Roble Vincent had always studied in the history books coincided with Arturia's image, rendering him motionless.

"And perhaps, just maybe, you may lead others better than I ever could have."

 _As the King without Emotion._

Vincent's heart wrenched within his chest, seeing the grief and misery that suddenly flashed across Arturia's features, but before he could dwell on it or Arturia's words, she was already moving.

"Wait! Where are you going?" He said, his feet pushing him off the ground and to a stand.

She paused at his call, the mantle draped over her shoulders billowing in a still breeze while the loose tresses of her hair framed her side-profile.

"That answer is simple," she intoned. "When all alternatives are cut off in war, and there are no means of escape, what does any lion, wolf, or animal do?"

She twisted her head to stare back.

In the gentle hum of the forest, with leaves falling and animals grazing upon the grass and shrubs, only two words resounded.

They Fight.

* * *

The Southernmost Region of the Roble Holy Kingdom situated within the borders of the Re-Estize Kingdom was geographically opposite of the bay dividing the South from the North. Unlike the North however, the majority of the rivers and eddies formed from the moving currents of the large bay emptied out in the South, forming regions of deposited sediments and deltas that comprised an entire rural suburban zone.

Of course, not all places were densely populated due to the unpredictability of flooding, but the fertility of the land was unquestionable. More so with the spring water that melted from the mountainside and formed small ponds that attracted migratory birds and wild game for hunting.

For any countryside resident of the Holy Kingdom, it was truly an ideal location to live despite some natural hazards. However, the matter was different when it concerned those not generally used to such conditions.

"I hate this place," a prim, yet contemptuous voice sounded out.

A young woman wearing silk-bound leathers embroidered with lavish gold linings grumbled to herself as she pulled her shin-high riding boots from out of the mud in which they had sank in. Her nose wrinkled upon completion of the action, the dirt and grime staining her footwear preventing anyone from determining just how luxurious they had once been.

"It's dirty, there's bugs, and it smells of salt and musk," the woman's gaze directed whimsically downward, as if the heat of her glare could instantly cleanse her of nature's filth.

"Look at them," she said gesturing to her boots. "I'll have to get a new pair!"

Off to the side, one of the two young men busy staring across at the forest before them, glanced back and scoffed.

"Elanor Hubert, did you hit your head on a rock to forget the importance of what we're doing here? If you care so much about your boots than use that magic you're so proud of."

Elanor huffed, crossing her arms before her eyes narrowed.

"This is why I say you have no class Marteo. It's precisely because of the importance of this mission that I can't waste my magical reserves on a cleansing magic."

Elanor was a talented Magic-Caster belonging to one of the top three Aristocratic households of the Southern Roble Kingdom. The other two before her were heirs of the other top Aristocratic households. Marteo Vandele, and Dillan Merdings each with their own talents.

Marteo was of the Knight-class, a high job class that required strict discipline and Noble status to acquire as most teachers of the profession were of greater standing than most. Similar to Elanor, he too was proficient in his field, reaching an esteemed job-level of six after a mere few years of his life.

Dillan Merdings was different from the two. If Elanor and Marteo could be considered talented in their own rights, then Dillan was a genius. He was proficient in not only one job-class, but three. Knight, Cleric, and most importantly Forest Stalker, a Ranger sub-class that allowed one to be entuned with nature itself. The Human race in the first place was perhaps the most numerous when it came to job classes and opportunity, but that didn't mean that humans were accomplished in all job-classes.

Take both Marteo and Elanor. Both Knight and Magic-Caster weren't their only job-classes, yet their other classes were at too low of a level to be of much repute. In this regard, Dillan who had mastered three to at least the ninth level was deserving of his reputation.

The Forest Stalker job-class was the reason why Dillan was the one in charge out of the current coalition of High-Nobles and several mid-class Nobles in the area. Everything that happened within a set distance of several hundred meters with him at the apex was known to him, making him the eyes and ears of the operation.

As Marteo and Elanor bickered, the frown growing on Dillan's face became more apparent.

"Jed's not back yet," Dillan suddenly spoke, causing Marteo and Elanor to frown before ceasing hostilities.

Jed was the bowman of the Merding's family with a high enough aptitude that he was already reaching the foremost peak of his Archer-class. Not many could deal with the accuracy and strength of a master Archer at a distance and it was knowing this that Dillan had approved Jed's departure.

When Vincent had ran from the initial ambush prior to the defensive perimeter currently set up around the forest, Vincent had been able to reach far enough to bypass the range of Dillan's Forest Stalking skills. However, Dillan didn't pursue, rather he couldn't even if he wanted to. From where he was, he had a clear grasp of anything attempting to escape the forest, and thus by changing his position, he would lose that advantage and give rise to variables he didn't want to deal with; say if Vincent was able to circle around him and escape. Ergo, the need to send others to search instead.

"Are you sure Jed's just not taking his time?" Elanor asked, cheeks raising.

Dillan glanced at Elanor, but didn't say anything. Marteo's response was more than enough.

"It's been five hours of us standing here," Marteo said.

Indeed. It had been exactly five hours, and Dillan knew that all Merdings Family men were trained to report back a failed mission after three, or at least send word of their location and findings. Jed had done neither of those two options, and he was a man that the Merdings family had invested a lot into. Meaning, that something must have had gone wrong.

Dillan released a breath. Jed was not someone he wished to have die under his command, more so when Jed had only been entrusted to him by his father to ensure the mission's success. However, at this point, there was nothing he could do but wait.

The majority of the men and women in the area were subordinates sent by the Lower-class Nobles vying for favour amongst the High-Nobles. With the fall of the Berferd Dutchy, the vast land in which it occupied at the buffer zone of Aristocratic conflict would be up for the taking.

Rather than a sole family having control of everything, it was agreed upon by the other High-Nobles that it was more suited to their interest if the land was controlled by smaller lords. In which case, it was unlikely that they would be able to put aside their differences and band together in the face of opposition or control enough men to organize a meaningful attack. For such a thing to occur however, the Berferd family still ultimately had to perish subtly. Otherwise, the residents of the duchy could revolt or defect to another land in outrage as the Kingdoms comprising Re-Estize didn't participate in the notion of fixed land workers. Serfs, by another term, didn't exist in the New World.

Which was why it was that much more important to eliminate the heir of the Berferd family.

Back to the point of the matter, it had been five hours like Marteo said.

"Jed must have just been sidetracked," Dillan decided to convince himself by telling others. "There's no way Vincent has the required skills to pressure Jed unless the range could be closed."

"Jed's a hunter by hobby. Maybe he spotted a new kind of wild game and decided to hunt it before returning?" Marteo reasoned.

"Yeah," Dillan said disbelievingly.

Hunting for a hobby was one thing, but Jed would never do so on a mission that was so important. Regardless, now wasn't the time to think on the matter. At best he could send someone out later when the mission was completed.

Noticing that Dillan didn't wish to speak anymore, Marteo and Elanor tacitly nodded to each other before falling quiet. Waiting.

Of the gathered men and women sent by the temporary alliance of Nobles amounting to around four-hundred, fifty were general Archer-classes, two-hundred were of differing warrior-classes, and the rest were hired mercenaries.

Their numbers were currently stretched thin to surround any exits of the forest, yet the majority of them were lax. Dillan didn't mind though because he knew that they were just waiting for his signal.

If anyone wanted to leave the forest, then he would sense it from hundreds of meters away. By then, it was impossible for him to not have had set up an adequate welcome response.

Coincidentally, his skills alerted him that someone was steadily approaching.

He raised a brow.

Something seemed off about the person approaching. In a general sense, his Forest Stalking job-class wasn't omnipotent. All he could gleam from the skill was the location of the target, and what the woods and nature informed him of. For instance, the grass on the ground could convey how heavy a person or animal was, and the branches and extending twigs from the trees could allow him to estimate a rough size. Furthermore, the unique aura some individuals diffuse off from their bodies could be sensed by the leaves and foliage of the forest. Dark job-classes such as Necromancers for instance gave off a withering aura that drained life from the surroundings.

In this case, the forest was _singing_.

He couldn't understand it, it was the first time it had ever happened. It was too strange.

Ignoring everything around him, Dillan closed his eyes and attuned himself to his highest level in the Forest Stalker job-class. Within his mind, a picture was steadily forming, supplied by the senses of the forest.

A flutter, a wing beat, and the gentle chiming of wind bells.

Dillan almost didn't know what to make of it before he saw them. Dancing and vocalizing, the spirits spoken only rarely of in the New World for they were the voices of nature itself undetectable by mortal eyes.

The watcher and children of Nature, the Fae.

Their glowing mot-like bodies swirled around an obscure figure and some kind of sheath.

Dillan was shocked, yet it wasn't until he decided to peer in towards the approaching figure that his face paled.

What was staring back at him as transmitted from the trees, the shrubs, and the air, was a pair of massive slitted pupils.

An overbearing pressure overwhelmed him, his mind going blank as a red lumbering scaled body then came within view. Robust and lean, tendrils of flame and steam hissed out with every step creating a smog that encompassed all; the unbearable heat of which he could feel despite not being there in body.

His breath hitched, instantly pulling away from his Forest Stalker skill and breathing heavily. just as a roar deafened his ears.

T-That was…No, it couldn't be!

He swallowed, unwilling to think about what he had just seen for fear of losing his will to fight.

"Dillan?" Marteo called out, puzzled at Dillan's stricken countenance. "What's happening?"

"Move!"

Dillan pushed Marteo aside frantically before running in the direction of the largest congregation of men and women.

"Gather everyone, its coming!" He yelled, the seriousness in his tone conveying the direness of the situation.

Elanor and Marteo had never seen Dillan appear so distressed and immediately grew weary. Dillan was famous amongst the Southern Aristocracy as one the foremost heirs of a top family. Nothing had ever unnerved him.

Elanor calmed her features, pulling out a staff she had had holstered to a strap on her back before chanting and pointing at the gathered crowd of four-hundred ahead.

"Quick March, Lesser Mind Protection, Anti-Evil Protection, Lesser Fear Resistance…"

Numerous defensive and attack buffs were placed over the four-hundred individuals ahead organizing themselves into neat ranks to prevent casualties. In this regard, the mercenaries were the most efficient as what good was coin if one wasn't around to spend it?

Panting after utilizing a large segment of her magical reserves on the others, she then turned towards herself for precaution.

"Rabbit Ears, Rabbit Foot, Bunny Tail."

Each of the spells she called forth enhanced her in a way: Rabbit Ears for advanced hearing, Rabbit Foot to increase luck, and Rabbit Tail to decrease aggression on herself. All were classed as Tier One skills of the Tier Magics, but for a person of Elanor's age, the sheer number of spells she mastered was impressive. In fact, she had already reached the second tier, and had high aspiration to reach the third or fourth before the end of her life. Any higher was just wishful thinking belonging only in ancient myth.

In any case, Elanor still didn't feel safe despite utilizing her magic. After all, despite their preparations the expression on Dillan's face hadn't changed. It was a mix of anxiety and trepidation that was subconsciously eating away at the morale of those who looked up to him.

Elanor pursed her lips, drawing forth from her reserves to cast two last self-enhancement magics.

"Camouflage, Odorless."

In a heart beat, she disappeared from the naked eye, becoming invisible and losing her scent. Should she remain still, it would be difficult for any general adversary to spot her, yet just to be safe, she discreetly made her way to stand behind Marteo and Dillan.

Both of the two had drawn their weapons, Marteo a large broadsword, and Dillan a short sword. As Elanor was a good head shorter than both men, she felt a bit better with the two in front of her.

"I'll support from here," she spoke out, causing both Marteo and Dillan to nod as this wasn't the first time that they had all worked together.

Dillan swallowed. In the silence, the vast congregation of men and women grew tense as the steady sound of footsteps over the earth resounded in Dillan's ears due to his job-class. The noise was akin to the beating of his heart in his chest, unknowing of just what sort of adversary he was about to face.

Five hundred meters.

Three hundred.

Then one.

In the distance, the approaching figure drew clearer after passing through the last segment of dense forestry and into a short clearing.

Marteo was stunned.

"A-A Goddess?" Marteo muttered, causing Elanor to frown before discreetly pushing Marteo away to get a glimpse.

Immediately, a feeling of inferiority that she had never once felt before flooded her mind as Arturia's form was distinctly made out.

From the moment Shirou had first created Arturia in YGGDRASIL, she above all was the one he had spent the most time on. Blemishes and minor details were impossible to be found on her; the natural radiance and elegance she had exuded in life, all painstakingly recreated from the efforts of a broken man. In the end, the result showed.

Her emerald eyes remained clear and steadfast even before the large group of people before her. The clanging of her armour was like a soft melody as her battle skirt rippled with every movement. Finally, she stopped just shy of fifty meters away and within shooting range of the Archers.

And yet, many of the Archers were reluctant to shoot unless ordered.

No man was willing to harm a flower.

Elanor though was different. From the inferiority she was feeling came an uncomfortable sense of jealousy. If not for the fact that Dillan hadn't issued any commands yet, she would have had already attempted to blast Arturia in the face.

In hindsight, Arturia probably wasn't what she and everyone else should have had been focusing on, but the man trailing behind her with a resolved expression.

Vincent Berferd.

It wasn't until Arturia had stopped that many realized this fact, namely Dillan who had been too distracted staring piercingly at Arturia. Unlike Marteo though, it wasn't out of adoration for beauty, but because of his apprehension.

"Vincent Berferd, you finally show your face. I was beginning to wonder if you'd already died in there," Marteo sneered after reluctantly shifting his attention away from Arturia.

"Marteo Vandele, you weasel. If you truly think yourself a man then call off the others and fight me as a fellow Knight!" Vincent rebuked, warily staring at the Archers with their bows poised.

Marteo had always been prideful of his skills, but unlike Dillan and Elanor, he had competition in regards to Vincent. The both of them were hailed as the foremost Knights in the younger generation of the Southern Kingdom of Roble and many times he had heard himself compared with the Berferd family prodigy. It was infuriating when the majority held him in lower regard, therefore, he had always wanted to prove others wrong.

As such, Vincent's words were exceedingly agreeable with Marteo. However, as Marteo was about to give the command for the Archers mainly consisting of the Vandele's men to stand at ease, Dillan intervened.

"No, something's wrong," Dillan said simply before turning his attention to Arturia. "You, who are you and what purpose do you have in standing with the Berferd family heir?"

Arturia glanced up, not a change in her expression as she spoke justly.

"My name is Arturia, and am purely one who stands on the side of the righteous."

The sound of her voice was tranquil, like the soft calling produced by the swaying of evening reeds.

"What you all are doing here is not something that I could ever agree with," she replied to Dillan before shifting her attention towards Marteo. "And you," she glared. "A Knight? You lack the conviction, character, and true dedication to ever call yourself a Knight. You stain the title."

Marteo's teeth clenched as a vein popped over his forehead. He had once had pleasant thoughts and intentions upon first sighting Arturia, thinking to woo her with his natural charm. However, now he just wanted nothing more than to know if she could maintain such an attitude towards him after he ravaged her in his bed; not stopping until 'Young Lord' was the only thing that could ever come out from her mouth. After all, the outcome of the fight was settled from the moment one thought it possible to face hundreds of enemies with just two people.

Still, it was best for him to stake his claim.

"She's mine," he muttered lowly, the lust in his voice unable to be hidden from Dillan and Elanor who he was talking to.

Elanor bristled in disgust, her lips raising into a scowl.

Dillan however ignored him. The fool couldn't possibly understand what he had seen. In regards to Arturia, Dillan didn't view her as a woman, but as something on a higher level, and this showed in his caution. Since the very beginning of the discussion, he had yet to issue any commands.

"Will you not just leave the matter alone? Gold, possessions, anything you want can be discussed in terms," Dillan tried to reason.

In response, Arturia only shook her head, causing Dillan's apprehension to rise. His gut was telling him that the entire operation would be a failure if he could not find a way to avert the situation.

"Then perhaps we ca-"

"Enough bantering!" Marteo growled.

He had already been incensed by both Vincent and Arturia's remark but had only held himself back because he believed that Dillan would still fight. Yet from Dillan's words alone it was evident that Dillan wished to let Arturia go.

Marteo wouldn't allow it.

" _Stand down_ ," Dillan seethed while he glared, sweat building on his brow. "You don't understand what you're facing."

Elanor could sense the gravity of Dillan's words and quickly quelled the jealousy she was feeling inside. Invisible as she was, she whispered lowly to keep her position secured.

"Marteo, just listen to Dillan. He's never been wrong before," she said.

"Are you both fucking kidding me?" Marteo's lips twitched as he raised his voice. "Why the hell are you negotiating when it's _clearly_ wrong? There's only two of them and four-hundred of us!"

Saying that, Marteo pushed past Dillan and raised a hand for the Archers to prepare to fire.

"You're making a mistake!" Dillan yelled, knowing that he wouldn't be able to get the Archers to stop with his words alone due to their allegiance to the Vandele.

"NO, Dillan. YOU'RE the one making the mistake," Marteo answered coldly while his gaze shifted towards Arturia and Vincent. "The job's over, and the bitch mine. What can they possibly do alone?"

In the same instance that Marteo finished speaking, his hand fell down, signalling the Archers to fire.

Dillan felt it before anyone else, the speeding individual that crossed a path of thousands of meters in an instant to intercept the wave of arrows.

"Not alone."

A voice echoed out from the cloud of dust produced, causing Arturia's shoulders to tremble. The voice was all too familiar. Its warmth and care something that she would never be able to forget.

As the dust cleared, a figure appeared from within.

Shirou stood amidst a graveyard of splintered arrows the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down Dillan's back.

If what Dillan had sensed from Arturia before was enough to make him weary, then what he sensed from Shirou terrified him. It was as if hundred if not thousands of blades were cutting into him to the point that his eyes frantically had to check his own body to verify that he was still alive.

In YGGDRASIL, although Shirou hadn't really taken the quest and event mechanics of the game too seriously, he too like other advanced players was maxed leveled. He was, in the New World's terms, known as a Player; an existence far beyond anything the common inhabitants of the New World could ever hope to reach.

And he was infuriated.

Although he knew that mere arrows wouldn't even be able to scratch Arturia's defences, seeing her attacked was one of his largest taboos. It was to the point that he was labeled as the hidden boss of Camelot in the early release when he was still fuming from players actively seeking to kill her before he buffed her. He was known as a fabled Knight that was never seen nor heard, but was able to strike and eliminate players seeking to battle with the King of Camelot in an instant. In the forums, it was decided by a general consensus in the early game that unless this fabled Knight was defeated, none should try to even attempt Camelot's Raid Boss.

In the end, he had grown out of it, but only after he had strengthened Arturia with all of his means. However, habits die hard.

With Shirou's abrupt addition, Vincent didn't know what to feel, but seeing as Arturia knew Shirou, he decided to just assure himself.

Meanwhile, as Shirou was staring across at the sheer number of opponents in front of him, he grew weary. Unlike Arturia who had already had a relative gauge of the strength of the New World's inhabitants, Shirou had no such experience. In this regard, he viewed them in the only way he knew how, as Players mounting another Raid in YGGDRASIL.

His expression darkened. Such Player were generally of the highest level, and he couldn't be certain that those in front of him may possess similar power. Therefore, he quickly made his preparations.

A Magic of the Eight Tier.

" **Greater Teleportation**."

An invisible gale burst out, a miniature shockwave produced that rustled the trees and forced Marteo and the others to take a step back; their arms shielding their eyes from the subsequent blow of the flying debris.

By the time the surroundings settled down, Marteo was shocked to discover the sudden presence of others.

From the smoke, an armour of pale white appeared: Refined riveted steel bonds and golden lining fitted over a robust physique and exuding a seamless aura unmatched. An unfading light that would never die.

Lancelot Knight of the Lake.

Next to him, a man with sharp and cold features, the black plated armour in which he wore attributed to the nature of his very dealings.

Agravain, the Loyal.

To his right, the Knight of the Sun whose radiance shines from even the darkest of times; he known as the man undefeatable under its light.

Gawain, Protector of the Gates.

Next to his left were Bedivere and Galahad, the trusted aid of the King, and the Shield Bearer carrying with him the insignia of the Castle never once breached by enemies.

In a flash, two other individuals manifested.

Flowing red hair falling in a wave at his back, and a disposition that one could only call elegant. The Knight who fights not with sword or shield, but something that could hardly be considered a bow.

Tristain, Child of Sadness.

And behind him, the Knight of Treachery wearing an imposing armour and horned helmet.

Mordred Pendragon.

As if their minds were in sync, all began to line up with Arturia and Shirou at the center. Only one spot was missing to the far left.

Finally, a man dressed in sagely white robes and blooming roses adorning his every step arose from the air and arrived to fill in the last position. An unearthly aura emanated from the man, one of nature similar to the woodland Elves, yet far more imposing. If not for the fact that half of the man's face was currently bruised black from a slap mark, then his overall impression may have been a lot more intimidating. Unfortunately, the man had sought after too rare of a red-thorned purple rose.

He was Merlin, the Wizard of Flowers.

Standing united, they were the Knights of the Round Table.

The Sub-Bosses of Asgard's Holy Kingdom of Camelot in YGGDRASIL, and Arturia's greatest assurance alongside Shirou.

In the silence, a sword was raised, lustrous and tinged with a golden radiance as wisp-like essences of sand seemed to form a tower of light that stretched on towards the clouds.

It was a pillar, firm yet translucent, the banner of the King of Knights that represented a dream that could only be known as Beautiful.

Yet the sword itself wasn't what drew together the Knights of Arthurian Legend, but the girl who stood at the front delving into an issue that wasn't her own.

Kindness unknown to her time.

And,

Virtue incomparable.

She embodied both concepts wholly. A woman who would take upon herself all the sins attributed to the falling of her Kingdom, and even the mistakes of others that led to its eventual fall.

She was the King of Britain.

A figure that had never once known defeat in battle.

Arturia Pendragon.

The Raid Boss of the Holy Kingdom of Camelot.

* * *

 **Wow, this was a longer chapter than what I was expecting 0.o**

 **Thanks for Reading Cheers!**

 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


	7. Holy City Camelot: Part 4

The workings of fate were fickle, like grains of sand blowing amongst a desert in which no road was set in stone.

He who searches, and she who waits.

A paradise beyond reach, striving forth for that which was unseen yet told would one day produce a miracle transcending time.

The sight in front of him was one that he hadn't seen in an innumerable number of years, and yet still it was one that left him breathless. A disposition that spoke of no lies or deceit, and a will purer than any ruler or individual.

It was the gentle solemnity and earnestness that had been captured before his eyes on the day of that eventful night.

 _My Sword is your Sword, and your Sword is Mine._

The sight of the Ideal King.

"By honour and by glory, to arms Knights of the Round!" A shout loud yet not, weak yet strong resounded out. "The enemy stands before you."

An unseen pressure descended on the area, like a snake coiling around its prey, strangling Dillan and the others until they felt as if it was too difficult to breath.

With a single command, the entire disposition of the Knights standing before their King altered. Swords, bows, and shields were held at the ready, the ominous noise of clinking steel sending shivers down one's back as the regal mantles of blue lined with gold created an imposing image akin to a waving flag. The flag of a Kingdom ruled by a King long since forgotten in history yet immortalized in Legend, and the Knights who stood with her through thick and thin.

Peerless Knights.

One of the Lake and Betrayal.

Others of the Sun, and the Sorrow.

And a Shield that encompassed the entirety of the Kingdom, its people, its King, and its remaining Knights.

The Field Bosses of Asgard's Holy Kingdom of Camelot.

"For the King."

It was all that needed to be said, the only motivation required for the Knights to act.

Handsome visages and stern expressions were suddenly overshadowed as ominous helms were donned with the single gesture of the hand. Faces of expressionless steel, horned, sleek, robust, the contrast in appearances was enough to cause Marteo and the others to falter much less Dillan whose senses from the forest were screaming 'Danger' at him.

Even the half-hazard looking Merlin's expression shifted, eyes narrowing into slits as his arms overlapped together, carrying a simple sword in one hand and a black staff in the other. Skirt-Chaser as he may have had been, none in the Round Table had ever questioned his status by the King's side.

Teacher, and Wizard of the Court.

He wasn't sure who acted first, whether it was the launching of an arrow by a man who'd lost his nerve or the provocative action of Mordred, it didn't matter. All that did was that the clashing of the two sides began.

Lancelot was the first to meet the enemy, his strikes heavy yet graceful, Arondight's unfading light cutting a path single-handedly through the enemy's ranks. Swords, arrows, spears, nothing mattered as the enemy's lesser weapons could hardly even damage Lancelot's armour let alone touch him with his sheer skill.

It was an unmatchable might that caused Marteo's expression to stiffen let alone Dillan and the others associated with warrior classes. They couldn't understand it. The kind of level Lancelot was at to go unhindered against a crowd of hundreds.

He was the Unparalleled Knight of the Lake.

A child raised by Lady Vivian, the bearer of the Sacred Sword.

He who was the Greatest of all the Round, and the Field Boss that Players in YGGDRASIL dreaded running into. In fact, YGGDRASIL's official forums speculated that should Lancelot, an NPC, ever participate in Asgard's tournament to determine a new World Champion, then the winner of the event would be difficult to predict using the skills of the warrior classes alone.

Lancelot of Camelot was a nightmare not in terms of overwhelming power, but overall ability _and_ adaptability. In general game mechanics, bosses weren't normally designed to fight like players with their massive pools of health and superior skills, however, the bosses of Camelot and the other expansion packs were an exception in YGGDRASIL. Lancelot was the foremost example.

They fought like players, conserving their skills and awaiting opportunities; worse was when they acted as a party alongside the Raid Boss of Camelot.

Such was the current case with Lancelot taking the lead.

His path was one that was evident, a line of cleanly departed corpses making way for a continuous slaughter.

The hired mercenaries were the first to go, used as canon-fodder while the Ranger and Knight Classes of the profession tried and failed to stop Lancelot's charge. Swords and shields splintered, Arondight's edge unimpeded, forcing the mercenaries to do nothing more but dodge an attack that was too swift to even see.

"…What kind of monster is this?" Dillan muttered while backing away step by step, eyes wide in alarm.

Moreover, he could feel from his Forest Stalker Job-Class that fighting the Knight before him was akin to fighting with the will of a force of nature itself.

The blessings of a Child of the Lake.

By Dillan's side, he could already determine the fact that Elanor dared not even breathe too loudly with the situation as it was. What was occurring right now was an impossibility that she couldn't possibly wrap her head around much less quell the fear in her eyes when she eventually noticed the odd look Merlin was giving her from a distance.

 _C-Could he see her?_

No NO! It was impossible. Although she was using simple tier one and two spells, they were possibly the most advanced types throughout the Roble Kingdom. She refused to believe that she had been found and adamantly slowed her breathing. Keeping still was her greatest defence at the moment as she was invisible. Moving would only create signs of her presence.

Still, not once did Merlin's gaze leave her, making her feel uneasy much more than the fact that Lancelot had already breached the entire line of hired mercenaries.

His sword was one that found its way through any kind of defence or retaliation, piercing through with technique alone. Eventually, a breaking point was reached.

"F-Fuck this shit, who needs money if it can't be spent!"

Almost at the same time, the mercenaries dropped their swords and weapons and began fleeing. Some who were desperate enough even stripped down to their last garments in hopes of lightening themselves further and running faster.

Within moments, the surviving thirty mercenaries fled, leaving only the guards and subjects of Marteo, Elanor, and Dillan behind.

"Cowards!" Marteo growled out, hiding the anxiety he felt under a show of bravado. "Ready the beasts and kill this monster!"

In response, Lancelot didn't utter a word.

He simply stood there. A tower of an individual whose presence was immovable behind a cold helm.

And then there was Gawain.

"Hmm?" Gawain hummed absently, watching the way a flustered Marteo directed his men to produce a type of summoning crystal purchased at high prices.

Gawain didn't care much for such things. From his memories of fighting against Players, summoning crystals weren't of much use against him anyways, but he did understand their rarity amongst warrior-type players.

He nodded his head.

"The Knight of the Lake deserves this much credit for his skills that even I must yield to on different occasions. But ignoring myself and the others, that's too much of a folly don't you think?" His tone dipped lowly, an unfathomable might exuding off of him that forced Marteo and the others to realize that it wasn't just the Knight of the Lake that they were facing, but the might of the other Knights of the Round as well.

Mordred had already attacked without a moment's notice kicking down an enemy with the strength of her physical body alone which she then used to crush the enemy underfoot. The sickening snap of bone and pained wails was silenced by the descent of a sword more dazzling than any silver. Combined with her horned helm and crimson patterned armour, none dared approach her in retaliation.

Tristan, Agravain, and Galahad were more reserved, choosing to remain idle should the situation shift drastically.

Seeing the situation as it was, Dillan snapped out of his stupor.

"Form ranks!" He was quick to command. "Rangers in the back, melee classes to the front! Treat the enemies as High-Level Beasts and do not engage alone!"

Nervous as he was with the situation, Dillan still maintained a proper mentality and knew that if he continued to allow Marteo to lead then their lives would be in danger.

"Marteo," he called out. "What level of Beast did your family capture in those crystals?"

Hesitating for a moment, Marteo knew that Dillan was better at leading than him and reluctantly provided the information with a hint of pride.

"My father didn't tell me the level, but the two beasts contained in the crystals are a Basilisk and a Barghest that my family paid a great deal of effort to obtain by commission from Adventurers."

Dillan's expression immediately brightened. "A Basilisk and a Barghest, why didn't you say so earlier? Both of those monsters have a difficulty rating of eighty-three or higher from the Adventurer's standard. W-We just might have a chance."

Determination swelling from within him, he cut off his connection with his Forest Stalker Class and donned the mantle of a young but experienced commander once more.

"Elanor, how are your magical reserves?" He asked out of priority.

In any battle, magic was game changing. Just the numerous buffs and heals alone were enough to allow regular soldiers and fighters to persist in combat. As such, any Kingdom valued Magic-Casters above all infantry class military. It was vital then that he get a gauge of what Elanor could and couldn't do after expending her magic to buff their men and women earlier.

Unfortunately, he got no response.

" _Elanor_?" Dillan pressed.

Again no response.

Marteo turned around in confusion, meeting Dillan's eyes and frowning. However, there was nothing that they could do.

The enemy was approaching.

Unexpectedly, Lancelot returned to where Arturia and the others stood. Tristan and the others were the same, though unwillingly on Mordred's part as she grumbled in complaint.

Initially, Shirou had summoned the entirety of the Round Table out of precaution, but after watching how things played out, the anger within him on Arturia's behalf gradually faded. The weapons he was moments away from tracing disappeared from his mind as a result.

After all, the enemies were simply too weak.

Mordred's display of crushing the enemy underfoot in the first place probably wasn't intentional. In fact, due to his heightened hearing, he hadn't missed the tiny yelp that escaped Mordred's lips when the enemy had instantly crumbled from her initial kick and she lost her balance.

He could already picture her face flushed red at the moment from embarrassment for even though the enemy had not heard her outburst, Arturia and the others certainly _did_.

"B-Bastards, I'll kill'em all, I swear it," Mordred muttered lowly, the heat rushing to her cheeks causing them to redden even further within her helm just as much as the mortification of it all.

He didn't pay much attention to Mordred's words as she was simply venting while kicking a tree, unable to meet the gazes of her fellow comrades who smiled at her expense.

Instead, what he was paying attention to was the way Marteo and Dillan had ordered all of the magic classes on their side to fuel energy into two summoning crystals. Each crystal had around fifty to sixty people supplying their power, causing the crystal to emit trails of smoke.

Rather than interrupting what they were doing, he chose to remain where he was in order to get a better understanding of what the humans in the New World were capable of. Besides, he stared up at the sky, at the scalding heat of the mid-morning sun, there shouldn't be any problems.

"They're sending only one person?" Dillan spoke in confusion just as the Basilisk and Barghest were summoned.

The two beasts stood several heads taller than an average human and were bound by magical chains that were the work of the Adventurers that had captured them. The Basilisk's eyes were covered by thick swaths of cloth to prevent the use of their petrification skill on the handlers and the rest of its snake-like body struggled against its bindings. It was the same for the Barghest, a black wolf-like beast with protruding canines from its maw dripping with saliva after a number of days starved. Its eyes were currently narrowed into slits that quickly widened.

Barghests not only possessed the means to utilize innate magical abilities, but they were also a highly intelligent form of magical beast.

It howled in agitation, biting violently at the chains which bound its body. For it felt only death would come if it didn't struggle.

The scent of ash and cinder slowly wafted into its nose, an intangible heat causing sweat to form on the Barghest's face as its struggle intensified.

It wasn't a human that was in front of it.

It was the Sun itself.

Ripples of unseen magical power caused its hairs to stand on end while the Basilisk continued to remain none the wiser, growling and thrashing.

"Oh? You can sense it?" A calm voice spoke out, causing the Barghest to freeze before letting out submissive low whines.

Marteo and Dillan were dumfounded, the former yelling hysterically for the release of the Basilisk.

"Even now you do not understand?"

The power of the Sun, all encompassing and all seeing. A strength that denoted a power unbound, greater than that of even the deepest sea and sky. Something that not even the foremost Knights of the Round could ever compete with and that all Players in YGGDRASIL _had_ to understand.

A single phrase.

A single question whose impact determined the lives of all enemies and invaders wishing to cross the boundary of the Holy Gates of Camelot guarded by only one man alone. One NPC whose unique skill made him nearly nigh invincible.

"I ask of you," a harsh tone, filled with unbridled confidence bordering on arrogance and pride. "Do you not know what time of day it is?"

The sun shone brightly amidst the clouds, the lustrous rays of light piercing through the forest canopy and basking Gawain in their grandeur just as the Basilisk was released, charging towards him.

Sharp eyes narrowed, a blade erupting forth with scorching flames that smoldered the very earth, bubbles forming in the mud and gravel from the heat alone. The very world seemed to burn.

None on Dillan's side dared to breath as the Basilisk drew closer to what was akin to an illusory Demon of Flame.

And in the moment, as the world reached its twilight and all was encompassed within a blinding brilliance, a single statement resounded to the confusion of all ignorant.

"It's High-Noon."

* * *

 **Thanks for Reading!**

 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


	8. Holy City Camelot: Part 5

It was the power of the sun stored within the confines of a single sword.

Radiant, dazzling, a disposition greater than that of even King Arthur at the crux of midday.

It was called the Numeral of the Saint.

A divine providence displayed at its maximum when the sun loomed directly overhead. It was the scorching flare of the sun, arid, and stale, unrelenting in its ferocity and significantly increasing Gawain's abilities in all parameters.

The Blessed Numeral of Three, the sacred number of the Celtic Deities.

All Dillan, Marteo, and the others saw before them was a blinding flash of light. Their bodies began to shudder, and to their horror, their skin began to flake off like ash. There was no activation of any kind of magic, no ritual, or arcane circle to indicate any kind of catalyst either.

Which meant to say, everything that was happening was due to Gawain himself, a feat impossible for any common human in the New World to accomplish.

It was enough to get Marteo's mind to blank, yet for Dillan it was different.

He had always been well learned and had paid constant attention to details regarding information outside of the Kingdom to broaden his perspectives. As such, he knew of a description that suited the individual before him.

A special term passed down from the distant Slane Theocracy to describe such living monsters of humanity directly related to the Six Great Gods.

"G-Godkin," he stuttered, expression paling further when he looked at Arturia and the rest. For Gawain was sent forward on Arturia's instruction.

In which case, didn't that mean that the man that he, Marteo, and everyone else was fighting was only a subordinate Godkin?

The implication of this line of thought terrified him, his body freezing, unable to flee.

Yet it didn't matter.

Nothing did.

Not when the inferno came crashing down in a wall of revolving flames.

Nothing could escape it for not only was it too fast, but the burns on their bodies already severely injured them.

As the wave of heat fully engulfed and carbonized all, only one thought surfaced in Dillan's mind.

From where did the Berferd heir recruit such monsters?

As the dust settled and the embers snuffed out, Gawain stared impassively at the charred area in front of him, smoke billowing into the air and crows cawing in the distance. He didn't enjoy killing those far weaker than him, but it was also part of his righteousness to never deprive his enemies the courtesy of going all out. For holding back in any duel or conflict was the same as humiliating and demeaning the other party.

Work done, he sheathed his sword and faced Arturia.

"The deed is done, my King," he said, bowing his head while ignoring the way Morded fumed at him on the side due to preventing her from redeeming herself in her earlier blunder.

It mattered not to him, only the satisfaction of completing his King's will did.

"You've done well, Gawain," Arturia spoke with a smile. "My thanks."

Gawain shook his head in refusal.

"No, my King. It is only proper that I vanquish those who dare hinder your path. Therefore, it's not something worth thanking me over. But in that regard," Gawain turned to face Shirou with a raised brow. "Were all of us really necessary for this?"

Shirou maintained a poker face.

"I suppose not," he said, unwilling to admit that he had been too heated at the time to think properly.

"Yet precautions are always necessary when faced with an unfamiliar land," he reasoned his way out.

Gawain laughed in admiration.

"As expected of our Lord. Strong yet wise."

He only nodded while forcing down the embarrassment of it all.

Thereafter he turned to Arturia and watched as her eyes glanced away from his in uncertainty. After all, she had acted on her own without at least informing him. The thing was however, he wasn't mad at her. Far from it, he was proud.

Thus, he nodded towards her when she glanced at him with her teal coloured eyes. Whatever she decided on was what he would do, and supposedly that meant addressing Vincent Berferd.

"Vincent Berferd," she called out to Vincent who was still in a daze from Gawain's earlier demonstration. "You're path home should be safe now," she said smiling.

Vincent had been in awe from the moment Lancelot had first made his move, and then dumbfounded when Gawain intervened. The power and skill displayed before him was such that he thought himself inadequate. With all his years of training, it was disheartening to realize that the most his skill could amount to was to catch his opponent off-guard with his inability to fight back.

"Ugh, Ah yes," He muttered in response to Arturia, shaking his head to clear his mind yet growing flustered under the gazes of the others around.

Yet, he was an honourable man.

"Thank you for all of the help," he bowed his head low. "The Berferd family will not forget this favour."

With his piece said, he turned to depart but hesitated moments away from leaving, inevitably turning around to stare apprehensively at Arturia.

She was his savior and without her, Vincent held no notion that he would have had been able to escape Dillan's encirclement. Which was why he found it difficult to question her on a rising suspicion from within him. In the end however, his need to know won out over his shame.

"R-Rude of me as this may be, but might I ask of you a question?" He stammered.

Arturia furrowed her brows for a moment, but her expression softened afterwards, giving Vincent a welcoming nod. In the time she had spent with him, she approved of his character and felt that he was a local worth getting along with.

"You are more than welcome to," she said, greatly relieving Vincent.

"Earlier, that sword," Vincent swallowed nervously as he inquired. "M-Might it be the Sacred Sword?"

Gawain and the others shared startled glances with one another upon hearing Vincent's question, surprised that he was able to notice such a detail regarding their King. For the sword Excalibur, granted by Lady Vivian of the lake was indeed a Sacred Sword and King Arthur's most defining feature.

The subtle changes Vincent noticed from the Knights reactions helped to solidify the assumption that had already formed in his mind; all but verified with Arturia's admission.

"Yes," she said without pause, her calm yet dignified voice striking him like a bolt of lightning that disorientated him.

He froze, expression vacant.

However, what he was experiencing inside was far different from what he was experiencing outside.

The Holy Maiden.

 _The Holy Maiden!_

She was the Valkyrie Knight of the Roble Holy Empire, or more likely a descendant.

Regardless, there were no doubts in Vincent's mind that Arturia was somehow related to the Roble Holy Kingdom's National Hero. It made too much sense for him to think of any other alternative. Otherwise, how could he explain the fact that there was a certain charisma about her that even had Knights such as Gawain and others under her service?

His breath hitched with the realization, his eyes closing to calm the rapid beating of his heart before he decisively turned around and began walking; certain that he wouldn't be able to maintain his composure if he stared at Arturia any longer.

Forget about returning to his family's duchy, he had the impulse to prostrate himself and declare allegiance on the spot instead.

It was through his will power and familial piety alone that prevented him from taking such actions for it would be a slight against Arturia's own words,

 _Believe in Honour, Duty, and in Integrity._

To never lose one's way.

He had an obligation towards his people that he couldn't ignore for his own selfish reasons. Therefore, he would go back.

As the sound of Vincent's steps receded from the forest, Arturia and the others stared quietly at Shirou, waiting for instructions.

"Nero's told me that you've already secured the area?" He spoke after a moment.

"Indeed," Tristan was the first to respond.

As an NPC with an Archer-Class designation, Tristan too possessed the ability of Far Sight, making it easier for Tristan to scout and secure wide areas. As such, Tristan's admission was all Shirou needed to know to verify Nero's words.

"Good work," he said earnestly.

"It's only proper," Lancelot said curtly, tilting his head down.

The amount of effort he had put into making all of his NPC's were known by them all. Therefore, rather than thinking of doing something for his benefit as a chore, most of his NPC's would hardly complain aside from perhaps the arrogant ones.

"Even still, I'm thanking you in acknowledgment of your efforts. You'd allow me to do this much at least, wouldn't you?" He said wryly.

"Very well," Tristan acceded along with Lancelot and the rest.

Thereafter, he turned his attention to Arturia, her body tensing as he approached and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"Although you didn't inform me before you took action, you did well," saying that, his brows furrowed in reminiscence.

Although each NPC he had made had their own personalities in YGGDRASIL, none of them had ever acted on their own initiative before; proving to him at least that they were more than just simple creations. They had thoughts, feelings, and aspirations as well, making them human in his eyes.

"But why?" he couldn't help but ask. "Why did you take such actions?"

He stared at her, and she at him, her expression thoughtful before glancing down.

"It's never wrong to help others," she murmured lowly, but her words brought such a shock to him that he pulled the hand he had on her shoulder away as if he had been stabbed.

"S-Saber?" he called out desperately, eyes growing bloodshot.

It was as if a dehydrated man had seen an oasis in a desert. The words Arturia had spoken, he had never inputted such lines in her text boxes; meaning that she would never have had known that those were the exact words he had once said to Saber in the Holy Grail War.

Unfortunately, his desperation was only met by confusion, a troubled expression making its way onto Arturia's face.

"Saber?" She questioned, feeling an ebbing pain from within her that she couldn't understand when she saw the despair that flickered in his eyes.

"No, it nothing," he swallowed before turning away, hands balling into fists. "You can take the others and head back to the Mausoleum, I'll be back later."

"Shirou, but," Arturia reached her hand out for his arm, mouth opening in an attempt to scold him but she paused involuntarily when she again couldn't explain why the actions felt so familiar.

Troubled, she just stood there, her lips pursing as a gloominess saturated her mind.

"Let's go," she eventually whispered out to Lancelot and the rest, not waiting for the others to acknowledge her words before leaving, thoughts running rampant in her head.

Lancelot glanced from Arturia to Shirou before sighing and following Arturia closely behind. Gawain and the others soon followed pensively, certain that they were missing some deeper meaning in their King's prompt actions.

Only Merlin awkwardly stayed behind for his own reasons, one of which was for Shirou's sake.

As Arturia's tutor and a wiseman amongst mortals, he could determine that what Shirou needed now wasn't the help of others to deal with his problem, but to find his own path. All Merlin could do as a teacher, was to guide him along that path.

"Regardless of what concept or feeling you have that's clouding your mind, if you don't have an answer now, surely you will have one later," Merlin's voice was piercing. "Therefore, it's best not to dwell on whatever conflicts you may harbour presently."

"Is that your attempt at a conciliation?" He asked wryly, Merlin's rather direct words somehow allowing him to compose himself. It must have had been related to Merlin's innate skill of Hero Creation.

Merlin grinned, before shrugging.

"You're not a woman so I can't bring myself to pull off anymore effort than I already have," Merlin said frankly.

"Then its lucky I'm not a woman."

From the memories he had shared with Arturia, he knew that Merlin was a thorough philanderer and skirt-chaser. To be a woman under his gaze had at times even left Arturia uneasy, and Merlin had even attempted placating her by saying she was 'flat,' which inevitably didn't go well.

Merlin's habits aside, he was someone reliable, making Shirou thankful for Merlin's considerations. The present moment regarding Arturia more than anything.

Because for an instance, he had hoped, only to be met with such acute heart-ache and anguish that it left him momentarily debilitated.

Still, NPC or not, saving Vincent was something Arturia had done out of her own initiative. Therefore, it became important for him to see it through.

A strong will emerged from within him, a resolve of steel.

Vincent had left for his home already, but that didn't mean that Vincent couldn't run into any other dangers. In which case, if Vincent died, then it would render Arturia's efforts meaningless and that was unacceptable to him.

"I'm going out Merlin," he informed.

Merlin nodded. "Do comeback early. Composed as young Arturia may appear at times, she gets impatient and flustered when the subject is regarding you."

His mouth gradually curved up.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said before departing, reinforcing his legs and disappearing through the forest's underbrush.

Left alone, Merlin let out a sigh of relief. It wasn't that he was apprehensive about returning to the Mausoleum, rather he dared not to at the moment.

His senses were warning him that the results of his latest escapade had not yet died out and that the woman in particular would be still be fuming.

Sure he 'may' have coped a feel as prompted by his Incubus heritage and admiration towards beautiful women, but wasn't trying to kill him immediately a tad overboard?

Besides, they were a Witch and a Wizard respectively, two entities that had even existed parallel to the mortal world: he in Avalon, and she in the Land of Shadows. Their similarities alone thoroughly convinced him that they were a preordained match, it only helped that she was too his preferences.

Yet why was reality so different from imagination?

So what if his advances were a little too suave for her to handle? Overreacting the way she did was simply uncultured and uncalled for.

He smiled wryly, phantom pains originating from the slap on his face a reminder of what his prompt summons by Shirou had saved him from. Though from the smooth sensation of supple skin and natural buoyancy that still lingered on his palm and fingers, he was seriously considering about offering his left cheek for another go at it.

His eyes blurred lewdly, heat flushing his cheeks red before he promptly shook his head and coughed. Smart as he was, he knew that without Shirou's prompt intervention, a single slap would have had been the least of his concerns regarding the actions of that violent yet alluring Lavender Rose.

Then again, his lips curled upwards, perhaps he could 'convince' Shirou to inadvertently help him once more.

Fantasies aside though, there was currently still another Rose awaiting his attention.

He smoothened his garments, freeing up the loose dirt and grime that had accumulated on them from the debris Lancelot and Gawain had created in their posturing before tilting his head in a certain direction.

An area that appeared completely empty, yet not.

"Well," he said sardonically, a shudder travelling down someone's back.

"How did you know I liked things wild?"

* * *

Following Vincent was easier than he had thought, granted he still wasn't accustomed to applying his in-game stats to his physical abilities yet.

After all, he wasn't even certain of what race he was do to his tampering with YGGDRASIL's mechanics, namely the stylistic race-restricted functions. Although YGGDRASIL was known to allow players to create and model in-game objects, limitations were still maintained. For example, the developers didn't want Players to choose any random race and be able to reconfigure the appearance at will.

If a Player chose an Orc, they'd be ugly but the enhanced stats would balance things out. Should a Player be able to model an orc to look exactly like a Human, then there was no point in choosing an Orc race to begin with. The YGGDRASIL company might as well have had just created one race then with varying stats.

For general and veteran Players, the limitation wasn't a big deal, but to him who had only played the game to recreate what he had lost, it was a problem. Therefore, he enabled his avatar to be able to utilize stylistic functions of all races when creating NPCs.

Draconic.

Divine.

Earth.

He possessed a portion of such traits within his body, making him unique in that he had no definite race, but when introduced, he would still say Human for it was the largest aspect of him.

The other traits were things he had only acquired a portion of to incorporate into Arturia and the others in their creation. The racial aura of 'Dragons' for example was something he passed onto Arturia, while 'Divine' was inputted into the Heroes descended from Gods.

Uncertain as he was about his current racial parameters, their combined might along with Reinforcement had him moving at a similar speed as a Servant.

Vincent was slow in comparison, and he was on horseback, having made his way to where he and his escorts had left their mounts and saddled himself up.

He trailed behind Vincent for the entire way, slowing down and keeping his distance while using Far Sight.

The trip itself was uneventful, Vincent making haste towards his family's duchy without rest and ignoring the idyllic view of the valley created by the water basin to the east. A place filled with rolling grass and swaying flowers and reeds.

Subsequently, it gave him enough time to think.

He had already ascertained that he not only possessed the magic he had in life, but the skills he had in YGGDRASIL as well. Therefore, the problem now, was where he would go from here.

Finding a way back home had always been at the back of his mind, but at the same time, he understood that there was nothing else left there for him; no one to wait and welcome him home after a weary journey.

In contrast, the New World was different. _She_ was here, _they_ were here, individuals who on some levels were like him, possessing the mentality of a Hero. They could understand him, and he them. The things that they had lost, the tragedies that they had experienced, he knew of them all for he had experienced events that were similar.

From another perspective, perhaps the New World was simply a new beginning. A place where Arturia and the others may no longer need to re-experience the tragedies of their lives.

With that thought in mind, something within him seemed to harden.

A resolve born from empathy and care, for he was their creator.

Letting the NPCs he had created enjoy a new life would be the ultimate goal he would work towards from now on. Because some _deserved_ a better ending.

He contemplated to himself while trailing Vincent, but something in the distance soon caught his attention.

He paused in his steps, taking a vantage point by a low rolling hill and surveying the large wisps of smoke billowing in the far horizon. Vincent had yet to notice such a detail as he was too far away and preoccupied with the road ahead of him.

Shirou on the other hand was different.

Not only was he accustomed to noticing small details while in the midst of undergoing other tasks, he was adept at it too due to his past field of work. He was an Enforcer and a mercenary; the types of jobs and places he had experienced were too much for him to count. As such, he had long since gotten used to the unexpected. The current situation was the same.

Smoke meant trouble, more so in large quantities and the wisps themselves had already shifted into a dark cloud.

He had seen outside festivities and bonfires before, but the the thickness of the smoke was simply too much.

Careful inspection would lead him to his answer.

Fire burning in a village.

His eyes narrowed in agitation as his goal was only to insure Vincent's safety before returning to the Mausoleum due to his limited knowledge of the New World. However, his decision was all but made for him when his acute senses then picked up on the screaming.

He clicked his tongue before utilizing Far Sight and Reinforcement to view several paces ahead of Vincent for any danger. Finding nothing, he didn't hesitate any longer and took off towards the direction of the shouts.

Zephyrs were left in his wake, miniature twisting cyclones creating a breeze that startled Vincent enough to slow down his horse, but by the time he glanced around, there was nothing there.

In the direction of the distant burning village, men and women ran panicked as a platoon of armoured knights raised the area to the ground.

The pungent scent of carbonized flesh and thick smoke permeated the air.

"H-Help!"

"Get away!"

People in common rags and rough linen tunics yelled desperately at the impassiveness of their assailants, trying desperately to ward them off but to no avail.

It was the difference between a trained elite and a greenhorn, there was no comparison. It was a slaughter. Steel tearing through the sinew of flesh and bone, leaving nothing behind but torrents of dripping blood.

The noise filtered into his ears from the moment he arrived, his expression growing cold.

It was a situation he had long since gotten used to back before YGGDRASIL, working as both an Enforcer and a wandering mercenary for hire.

The cruelty of humans.

It was a situation where he couldn't save both sides even if he wanted to. Then again, he had long since grown numb to it, almost cynical at times; reminiscent of the red Archer in the Holy Grail War that fought against Berserker, leading him to believe that perhaps they may have experienced the same things. He would never know.

All that mattered was that he sprung into action immediately.

A family was being cornered in their wooden stable containing their livestock, two armoured knights striking out before they stiffened in shock.

He appeared without sound nor warning, as if a ghost, hands intercepting the swinging blades and catching them in his grip as he glared.

"Do you not understand what you are doing?" His voice was clipped, his tone unforgiving as the swords he caught within his palms shattered. "Do you not have your own families and friends? Enemies are one thing, but you would so blatantly kill those unable to even fight back."

The Knights stared stunned at their shattered swords, yet composed themselves when they drew their secondary weapons, daggers hung by their waists. They didn't understand how Shirou had intercepted them, but staring at Shirou, neither of the Knights felt him to be as intimidating as he seemed. However, the strength Shirou had displayed was not lost on them.

"Y-You, who are you!" One of the Knights yelled impetuously. "Do you not know whose orders you are defying by intervening?!"

"No, I do not," he admitted freely, taking a step forward as a murderous aura erupted from around him, swords forming from the ether and staggering the two Knights back.

They shuddered, feeling that something wasn't quite right, for they could detect no traces of Tier Magic being used. Instead, it was something purer and overflowing with a ferocity of an inferno. The scent of ash suddenly grew more pungent, ominous clinking noises resounding in the Knights ears as visions of turning monolithic gears clouded their minds.

"What magic is this?" A Knight stuttered. "N-No, get back!" They yelled, finally unsettled.

He didn't relent, not because he didn't want to, but because he couldn't see any remorse in the Knights eyes.

"Did these villagers not say the same as you mercilessly cut them down?"

His tone of voice was flat, without emotion.

By now, the entire stable was filled to the brim with floating swords pointed downwards, their sharp gleams reflecting the heat of the fires raging outside.

His question silenced the Knights, but thereafter they both attempted to run.

Yet, it wouldn't be that easy.

"Trace, set," his gaze sharpened, locking in on the fleeing enemies with a methodic precision honed after numerous years as an Enforcer. "Fire."

A cold sweat travelled down the family's back, the speed of the swords flying out impossible to dodge as they penetrated through the Knights and pinned them to a wall outside before fading.

He ignored the pang of loss he felt upon acting so ruthlessly, but understood that sometimes deaths were necessary. The kind of people who would feel no shame or remorse after a slaughter weren't the kind of people he should go out of his way to save.

He glanced at the family cowering behind him, but quickly left after giving them a warning to stay away from the east-side of the village where he knew the majority of the attacking Knights had congregated. He had to move fast if he wanted as many people as he could.

The family thanked him profusely even after he left, but realized soon after that they didn't even know his name.

Elsewhere, numerous sightings regarding him began to spread like thunder across the surviving members of the village as he decimated the Knights and rescued more and more people.

It was to the point that the Knights were forced to retreat in fear for their lives, running from a rain of steel that never seemed to end as it blotted out the sky.

As the dust settled, and the remains of the burning village toppled into cinders, he paused in his actions, relieved with the amount of people he was able to save on time. However, his mood was far from happy.

The village was burned down and the injured villagers that had survived were left stranded without home, food, or water. Primitive as the world seemed, if the villagers were left alone in such conditions, then death was only outcome.

His lips pursed as he gritted his teeth.

Standing there by the entrance of the village, a child suddenly caught sight of him without warning, and before he could leave, more began to surround him.

"Mamma, he's over here!" One of them yelled out to the adults in the distance.

"T-Thank you," a boy sputtered as he spoke. "Papa says you're a Hero!"

"No, no its nothing much," he said calmly.

By now, the other adults had come to express their gratitude, but he was reluctant to accept it. Not when he could imagine the future that they would have without a place to live. They would starve, and without the protection of a shelter, there was no guarantee that they wouldn't get eaten by animals either.

He couldn't send them towards the Berferd duchy as he had learned from the attacking Knights that the razing of the village was part of a conspiracy between the Nobles vying for power; the village itself a property of the Berferd duchy. Serfs and peasants generally had nothing to do with aristocratic politics, but the heart of the matter lied in the fact that it was the harvest season in the New World. Peasants were required to work the field to harvest grain for the coming winter. Remove them, then it was the same as killing an adversary without direct confrontation.

Still, matters would only be worse when the Hubert, Vandele, and Merdings Family discovered the loss of contact to their heirs, making a siege against the Berderd's unavoidable.

Considering the situation, the peasants wouldn't be safe regardless of where they went.

Therefore, he made up his mind.

"You all," he said, unsure of what his decision would result in but doing so anyway.

His figure was one that stood in stark contrast to the burning flames, bronze coloured orbs reflecting a fiery orange glow.

In the New World, or in the previous, he had never changed. In the same way she had promised to wait for him at the culmination of his ideals, he would never give up on them regardless of his personal goals.

For it was all he had left while waiting for one's arrival.

A blade whittled away by time.

Unaware of loss nor aware of gain.

A fate destined for even the sharpest of steel.

Yet it was his Oath. His path made from a memory under a moonlit sky.

A promise of a sword and a sheath. And he would not waver.

"Follow me," he said decisively to the gathered crowd, stunning them with his disposition.

One of integrity and sincerity.

"To the Forest in the Mountainside."

A chance at a new life.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Next update coming: Fate-In time**

 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


	9. Holy City Camelot: Part 6

The Berferd Dutchy had never wanted to involve itself in the political war of Southern Roble and had always maintained its stance as a neutral ground. Petty squabbles for power and striving for greater prestige was not once a goal of the family. All that mattered was to maintain the oaths and duties bestowed upon them before the Holy Maiden's disappearance and the integrity of the ruling Monarchy.

Unfortunately, the Berferd Family was not to be left alone.

They occupied a land that was simply too strategic to ignore and as such had always been the focal point of numerous hidden agendas. The current situation was a direct result of many planned years and had nothing to do with recent incidents that only served as effective catalysts.

The smoke of fire trailed up into the horizon overhead, cloud-like wisps forming from darkened ash descending over the ground. Embers carried in the air, ephemeral orange lights flickering and dying out in a still breeze. The pungent smell of charred meat and scorched wood permeated everywhere, odorous and unpleasant.

Inwardly, it made Shirou want to gag if not for the fact that he'd already gotten used to it.

Walking, a frown appeared on Shirou's face whilst leading the individuals behind him from the front. They were the villagers he had rescued previously, many sporting bruises and minor injuries that he couldn't spare the time to treat in caution of the hostile patrols running across the perimeter.

Each patrol consisted of a unit of armed individuals numbering from five-to-six making sweeps across the area. They generally carried swords and shields with few carrying ranged weaponry due to the disadvantage of a forested zone. Their travel paths were converged densely in some places, but lightly in others; ergo locations where no one suspected fleeing low-leveled peasants to escape from.

Shirou capitalized on the opportunity and took advantage of the carelessness of the enemy. However, meticulous as he was, it was impossible to completely hide the presence of his group. Short scuffles appeared as a result and he was left with no choice but to intervene.

He had intervened twice already, he didn't want a third instance to occur lest the enemy realize the inconsistency in their patrols and converge on the location. In such a case, it wasn't _his_ safety he'd have to worry about.

It was with such thoughts in mind that the current situation left Shirou feeling troubled.

Shirou's lips curved downwards, his gaze shifting towards the quarrelling individuals behind him.

"Why the hell are you bastards dragging your feet!" A father of two yelled in outrage. His name was Kirchof Klein, a local farmer with cropped hair and wearing a faded jumper suit.

Opposed to Kirchof was a group of glaring men and women who didn't seem to care about the trouble they were causing others.

Kirchof held one son in his left hand, and a daughter in his right protectively. Both children were around the age of five or younger and were sniffling due to the recent loss of their mother. Shirou knew that Kirchof had it worse from the murmuring he could hear from the others around him.

The mother of the family had died in Kirchof's absence. Particularly because Kirchof had gone out of his way to aid in the rescue of others when he had believed his family to be 'safe.'

The assumption turned out wrong and the mother died luring away attackers, and for what?

"I save your sorry lives and this is how you all show your gratitude?" Kirchof erupted heatedly. "I made a promise to see my children grow old to my late wife, and you're all shameless enough to continue putting my family under danger?!"

A woman standing in front of Kirchof glowered darkly, charging up to Kirchof in a flurry of emotion. Her name was Andela Bree, a local seamstress that had been fairly well known for the quality of her wares. Currently, if not for an acquaintance actively moving to restrain her, then a confrontation was bound to occur.

"Speak what you will Kirchof, but you should understand our pain! I lost my husband _and_ my children. Someone like you that still has a family doesn't have the right to lecture me!" Andela thrashed wildly in the restraints of her acquaintance, involuntarily knocking over a young child to the ground with a loose elbow.

The child seemed to be no older than six and she fell in a pained cry. The plain white fabric the child wore as a one-piece dress was stained with both mud and grass, the sound of her sobbing beginning to echo out while she lay sprawled on the ground, a bruise forming on her forehead.

The sudden accident caused both sides of the confrontation to halt to a simmer, guilt appearing in Andela's eyes as she balled her hands into fists. Even Kirchof held back the shouts in his throat as he no longer wanted to escalate things further.

At the front of the group, Shirou had seen enough and before anyone else acted, he directly stepped forward. Anyone who had been in front of him willingly gave way until he stood directly between the two opposing parties.

Although Andela had been the one to speak out against Kirchof, her sentiments echoed the pain of the group she was associated with.

On the other hand, Kirchof was part of the larger majority of villagers Shirou had saved, they who still had others they needed to protect.

Each group had their own perspectives, but it didn't mean that arguing was the answer.

In the silence Shirou caused with his arrival, only the noise of the little girl sobbing echoed out.

Gingerly, Shirou knelt next to the little girl and propped her up in his arms.

"Does it hurt anywhere?" He asked, temporarily ignoring everything else.

The girl stared up at Shirou and pointed at her foot.

Disregarding the bruise forming on her forehead, the real problem was the swelling on the girl's ankle. It was a fierce red and Shirou suspected that the girl had been forcing herself to walk on it even before she was knocked over.

In an act of kindness, Shirou took one glance at the girl's injury and promptly carried her up into his arms, the girl clinging onto his chest seeking warmth.

Thereafter, Shirou sighed while turning to Andela and the people behind her, feeling at a loss.

Andela and the others like her had tragically lost their loved ones to their attackers and were exceedingly bitter, thoughts of vengeance clouding their judgment. After seeing the relative ease in which Shirou could dispatch the enemies, they purposely began to slow their paces down in hopes of running into more armed patrols.

The action was foolish, and touched the bottom line of the other villagers with family and friends they wanted to keep safe.

Sure, Shirou was around to protect everyone, but the majority of the villagers would rather not take a risk.

"This has gone on long enough," Shirou said disapprovingly, drawing circles on the child's back to soothe her as he felt a wetness seep through his leather garments.

He turned his attention towards Andela, looking at her in the eyes with sympathy.

"I'm sorry for your loss, but you're mistaken if you believe that you can use me to vent your anger." In truth, he was helpless to stop Andela and the others behaviour as there was no way he could easily quell the anger in her heart much less everyone else's.

The option of simply eliminating the enemies as a whole entered his mind, but he understood that the world wasn't simply black and white, just different shades of grey.

It wasn't justice to start a slaughter.

His lips thinned, resolve hardening.

"I won't stop you from intentionally slowing down your pace, but its selfish to drag others into danger," Shirou repositioned the young girl in his arms. The way he was staring at Andela and the rest causing them to flinch.

Andela and the others stood blankly, unable to form a response while the father that had spoken out in anger pressed his children close to him.

"For the most part, we've all had losses, but what matters is that we're alive." Kirchof conceded slowly to Andela, subtly glancing at Shirou and nodding his head. "And for that, we can't thank our Hero enough."

Andela crossed her arms, her lips pursed as her anger and bitterness slowly took the better part of her away.

She glared at Shirou, looking him up and down.

"He's a _Noble_." She spat out with such contempt that it was piercing.

Andela's words caused a small murmur to travel throughout the gathered crowd. They had been too busy hailing Shirou as a Hero to notice the quality of his leather armour. It wasn't something a peasant could ever hope to own which made it highly likely in the crowd's eyes that Shirou was of the aristocracy.

A wave of mistrust and doubt permeated the air.

Nobles were the ones who started calamities, and it was always the peasants that suffered. The present situation was no different.

Shirou felt the change immediately, an air of hostility washing over him.

He frowned, turning to stare at the people around him and creasing his brow. At this point, even if he wasn't a noble, he had no choice but to accept the title. The clothes he wore were indeed too inconspicuous in quality and make, leaving his credibility to deny Andela's words negligible.

The people around him stared at him warily, Kirchof himself even pushing his children to stand behind his robust legs.

At this point, Shirou had no obligation to help those who viewed him in contempt, but he would not leave them.

For the ideals he lived by.

For the promise he made to Saber.

He, Shirou Emiya, would never change.

 _It's never wrong to save another._

Before the shocked gazes of everyone present, Shirou dropped to his knees and lowered his head with full sincerity, staining his legs with dirt and grime. Reducing himself to a level no different from Kirchof's and the other's own.

"Regardless of what you think of me," Shirou said lowly, strongly. There was a certain strength and conviction in his tone that made it impossible for anyone to discredit him.

A candor and charisma overflowed from his very being. That which allowed him to unlock YGGDRASIL's hidden Hero Class.

Integrity and earnestness embodied within unblinking bronze-coloured orbs.

"I want to _help_ ," Shirou glanced up, turning his gaze left and right. "I _mean_ to help. There's no benefit to me deceiving any of you."

As Shirou's eyes travelled with his gaze, none present could maintain eye contact, shame preventing them from straightening their backs. Even Andela herself was left at a loss, her complexion paling as more and more people discreetly glared at her for instigating trouble. Some openly shaking their heads in contempt.

Shirou was too preoccupied to notice.

"I know you're all wary of me, but just this once," his brows furrowed in consternation, mouth setting into a thin line. "Place your belief in me."

Silence, not one person spoke but something had changed in the air. It was the way they looked at Shirou. The contempt was gone, replaced by bewilderment and faint traces of hope that belied the true feelings of everyone present.

Even if Shirou was a Noble, he was still the Hero who had saved them and took the trouble to accommodate them.

That fact alone was enough.

Kirchof gave one glance at Andela, scoffed then led he and his children to stand by Shirou's side.

"What are you all looking at?" Kirchof bellowed heartily to the silent crowd. "I see no Noble here, I only see the courage of a man with a heart bigger than most. One who's already displayed unwavering conviction!"

Kirchof placed a sturdy hand on Shirou's shoulder and hauled him back to his feet.

"A man does not kneel lightly. A _Hero_ does not need to curry the favour of others."

Kirchof stared directly at Shirou and inclined his head.

"You saved our lives, pleaded with us despite our hesitance. What kind of scumbags would we be if we scorned the resolve of a true man of honour?"

Kirchof spoke not only for himself, but to voice the unsaid words that had formed in everyone's being.

"We will trust you."

* * *

Avoiding the patrols became far easier with everyone's cooperation. The group didn't stretch out into a long crowd but rather maintained a compact formation with the woman and elderly in the middle watching over the kids. The able-bodied men volunteered to stand at the perimeter of the formation as a precaution for any unexpected dangers.

Shirou on the other hand, was constantly ahead by a few paces, utilizing his lvl 100 attributes to survey for any danger while still carrying a child in his hands.

The child herself wasn't much of an issue for Shirou, but it was the fact that no mother or relative had decided to take ownership of the child that troubled him.

Significantly exhausted and suffering from a recent injury, the girl had fallen unconscious from the moment he had first held her within his arms.

At first, Shirou wanted to take up Kirchof on his offer to watch over the child in his arms, but though unconscious, the child simply refused to let go of him. There was a desperation in her actions that Shirou didn't miss and as such decided to carry her until she woke up.

Why had she clung to him from the moment she saw him?

That was the single question in Shirou's mind, but he put it aside as the group approached the familiar forest line of the mountainside leading to the mausoleum.

At first, he was intending to allow everyone to enter the mausoleum, but he changed his mind partway through as there wasn't enough room. Besides, he didn't want any curious villagers accidently stumbling on the spaces leading to the other NPC rooms. Of course, some of them wouldn't mind the intrusion, but he had to consider whether the more arrogant one's like Gilgamesh may impart punishment.

It was with such considerations that Shirou sent a message ahead to call for a particular NPC, Galahad of the Holy Kingdom of Camelot. The King's Shield bearer who possessed the one unique skill that made YGGDRASIL's Kingdom of Camelot differ from all other Raid Quests.

 _A Mobile Fortress._

It was an AOE summoning skill that could instantly provide shelter for thousands.

Shirou was hesitant in requesting Galahad to use the skill because he knew that once it was used, there would be no way that it wouldn't be noticed, but for the sake of others, he'd already made his decision.

The message feature of YGGDRASIL didn't work properly when Shirou attempted using it to contact Galahad, but fortunately, he kept a message scroll on his person which he used instead.

"We're here," Shirou called out to Kirchof and the others after entering the foot of the mountain housing the Mausoleum.

Looking around the current area, many villagers stared out in confusion.

"It's the middle of a forest," Kirchof pointed out.

What the majority of the villagers were probably expecting was to be led towards another establishment to take shelter.

Shirou understood this, but knew he couldn't really explain to them what he had planned. They probably wouldn't believe it before seeing it.

"Just wait a bit," Shirou insisted to Kirchof and the others. "I have a friend on his way."

Kirchof stared at Shirou, grunted, and then went to pacify some of the more vocal villagers who set up a small camp to rest nearby.

It was around this time that Shirou felt the girl in his arms begin to stir.

She blinked, the strands of red hair that matted over her forehead falling in between her eyes and causing her nose to twitch. The pain and exhaustion that had caused her to pass out before had long since numbed to a tolerable level and she was beginning to turn her head left and right in a state of disorientation.

"Slept enough?" He spoke with a smile when their gazes met.

The child for her part seemed to gasp out, a hand falling over her mouth to muffle the noise.

"I-It's mister Hero," the child said before growing quiet and simply staring.

It felt somewhat awkward to Shirou for him to continue holding the little girl in his arms now that she was awake and gingerly, he placed her on the ground. The swelling of her ankle had gone down considerably and it was no longer a struggle for her to stand.

The girl glanced up at him, moisture in her eyes.

"Where are your parents?" He asked. "No one went up to take you out of my hands since you fell unconscious."

The girl didn't beat around the bush, her expression still somewhat calm.

"Brother said that papa died fighting monsters in the woods and mama died just after I was born," the little girl explained softly, just loud enough for him to hear.

His brows furrowed. No parents? At the very least, it seemed as if the child still had a sibling to rely on.

"What's your name," He asked. With the child's name, he was intending on asking Kirchof if he knew anyone that may be associated with her.

The child hesitated for a bit, but recalling that she wasn't talking to a stranger but to a hero, she eventually opened up to him.

"My name is Florance Loclander," the girl took a considerable amount of time pronouncing her name right, and seemed quite proud when she succeeded.

He tousled Florance's hair in acknowledgment. "Alright then, Florance, wait here. I'll go see if your brother is somewhere within the crowd."

Shirou made to walk towards Kirchof and the others, but was stopped when Florance tugged on his sleeve.

She shook her head. "No, brother not there," she said, eyes tearing up.

At the end of the day, Florence was still no more than five years old and the sudden attack on her village left her frightened and insecure. More so because the brother that she generally relied on was missing.

"Brother was taken," she said while bowing her head and sniffling.

Shirou inwardly raised a brow. Taken was different from killed. From the accounts of the other villagers, the attackers were merciless so therefore it was peculiar to him now that the girl was telling him a different story.

Shirou patted Florance's back to comfort her, but was made increasingly aware of the hope in Florance's eyes when she looked up to him.

She called him a Hero, and if the stories of heroes were anything like the ones in his previous world, it wasn't difficult to understand why she had clung to him when he had first approached her.

"I'll see what I can do, little one," he said, giving Florance a nod.

Florance's expression brightened so much that it was difficult for Shirou not to smile back. It was in that moment though that Shirou's ears picked up the approach of two others.

He glanced up, staring to his left, only to blank.

A-Arturia?

Beside Arturia was Galahad, but for the most part, Shirou hardly even noticed him. All his attention was on the woman he had fallen in love with in the past.

When his gaze met hers, there was a sort ambiguity that filled Arturia with a sense of longing and hope that she had still yet to understand. For Shirou's part, all he saw was a slight twitch on Arturia's neutral expression.

Shirou took in a breath, putting aside his reservation and deciding to no longer trouble Arturia with his own misunderstandings. Although she looked like his Saber, acted like his Saber, a part of him was scared that she _wasn't_ his Saber. It was the reason why he had delayed his trip back to the mausoleum for so long in hopes of quelling the turmoil in his mind whenever he saw her.

With that in mind, he smiled stiffly at Arturia and Galahad's approach.

"Shirou," Arturia inclined her head in greeting, Galahad doing the same.

Shirou greeted back, but there was something restrained about his greeting that both Galahad and Arturia picked up on.

Arturia's lips pursed together. She knew that she wasn't asked to come, yet when she heard word that Galahad was to set out on Shirou's instruction, she couldn't keep herself still almost like she was anxious.

This was her creator she was dealing with, yet to her, she felt he was far more than that. Therefore, even if it was uncomfortable not knowing why, she still wanted to be near him.

Arturia stood still, gaze never straying from Shirou's figure.

Galahad knew the intentions of his King, and knew what Shirou had called him for. As such, Galahad smiled wryly before patting his chest and stepping forward.

"Sorry to have eavesdropped my Lord, but if I do recall, you've made a promise to this child have you not?" Galahad spoke to Shirou in the silence while motioning towards Florance.

Shirou nodded, Galahad's words knocking him out of his daze.

"That's true," Shirou crossed his arms. "But I can't just leave so abruptly after just arriving?"

Galahad smirked. "That's where your wrong my Lord. Leave this matter to me. I should be more than capable enough."

Galahad's words held merit and the charisma he carried was enough to sway even the most stubborn of people. He was a man said to be able to shoulder the next generation of the Knights of the Round table after all.

It was with Galahad's insistence, that Shirou eventually relented and moved towards Kirchof and the others to explain the reason for his sudden departure.

Meanwhile, Arturia who had remained silent as Galahad spoke continued to stare in Shirou's direction, her hands balling into fists. By now, Shirou who was already in the midst of leaving while she was still caught up in her indecision.

"You know my King," Galahad advised calmly from the side. "This New World isn't Britain. You need not consider past reservations."

Arturia shifted her gaze to Galahad, uncertainty in her eyes.

Galahad shook his head.

"The choice is yours to make my King, but for once, perhaps you should learn to understand that you _too_ are human." Galahad moved away from Arturia, moving in the direction of Kirchof and the others, his back facing her. "Do what you feel is right."

With his piece said, Galahad proceeded forward, his lips tugging upwards when after a few seconds he felt a sudden gust of wind blow across his face; a blur of blue and gold fading into the direction Shirou had left from.

Galahad closed his eyes.

 _The King really had changed._

Galahad stepped forward, drawing the attention of Kirchof and the rest. He was armoured and possessed a dignified disposition that none could ignore.

He was the Son of Lancelot, First of the Round Table.

His armour was purple in colour; his flowing robes of matching silk and lavenders comprising his mantle and inner garments worn beneath his exterior frame, overshadowed by the ginormous tower-like shield held on his arm.

"My Lord has instructed me to aid you," Galahad spoke politely. "I will do just that."

Judging from the expressions and general appearances of the people before him, he knew what they needed.

What Shirou tasked him with was security.

And he would not fail to do so.

The shield over his arm, and the hope it represented suffused itself in an energy that shot towards the heavens. He sought forth the protection of the Holy Castle, one whose foundation could never be found in history for the Knights of the Round had not once left it.

His left arm rose forward, his right arm reaching to support it as he invoked the call from within, raising the shield up.

"Loooord," his voice was stern, his convictions true.

He was Galahad, Knight of the Round and bearer of the Sacred Walls, the gateway to the Kingdom of the mythological King of Britain.

 _"Caaammelllot!"_

He slammed down his round tower-shield, bigger than he was tall.

The world trembled, magic seals springing to life before the eyes of the villagers who stared gawking as the skill took effect.

The white walls of a forgotten Kingdom appeared in sight. Tall, and imposing, their looming shadows were the very nightmares of the Players of YGGDRASIL who dared to siege it.

Look up and behold its splendor.

The strongest obstacle barring the ambitions of the Angles, Saxons, and Jutes in the Germanic invasion of the British Isles.

Its gates stood firm.

Its ramparts fortified.

And its flags billowing in the wind.

A Holy Kingdom. The ray of Hope in the dark of war and civil strife.

The Fortress Kingdom Camelot.

* * *

 **Thanks for Reading!**

 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


	10. Holy City Camelot: Part 7

**Note: Chapter Nine has gotten a revision as of 01/01/2019 due to the way I rushed writing it during exams, so please read that chapter first before this one.**

* * *

Shirou was traveling back to the location of the attacked village, his feet a blur over the ground. Without having to guard Kirchof and the others, the time it would take for him to travel had reduced considerably.

The only thing that caught him by surprise was the presence of another quickly zeroing in on him.

He glanced behind him, only to see a pair of steady teal-coloured eyes that locked with his own.

"A-Arturia?" He called back with a stutter, slowing his speed to a halt.

Arturia appeared beside him in seconds, her regal blue mantle discarded in favour of her regular battle skirt and plate armour. Upon her arrival, she nodded her head to him and presented the words she had been rehearsing in her mind. Unknowingly, the lines she thought up of would only bring up more memories of the Saber Shirou knew.

"Please forgive my intrusion," Arturia said. "I didn't believe it would be safe for you to travel alone."

 _It was the same._ The thought sprung up in Shirou's mind. The expression Arturia was subconsciously making. The look on her face that revealed to Shirou just how much Arturia cared for him. In the Holy Grail War, Saber herself had even gone as far as insisting that the two sleep in the same room to protect him at all times.

The memory was a fond one, but it made it even harder to face Arturia as she was now.

Shirou shook his head, ridding himself of his self doubts.

Saber had once protected him, and the way he viewed Arturia right now was with a desire to protect and cherish her as Saber done for him. Everything about the current Arturia before him was the same as Saber, therefore, what more could he have asked for?

It was with this realization that the dark clouds that had loomed over Shirou ever since the surprise of seeing the NPCs he created come to life, promptly lifted.

He laughed, long and drawn out, causing Arturia to stare at him in wonder before a fond smile came over her lips without her knowing.

There was just something about being near Shirou that comforted Arturia in a way she couldn't describe.

As Shirou finished laughing, Arturia put on a sincere expression.

"I was serious," she said curtly. "I want to protect you and as long as you feel that my presence doesn't hinder you, I…I want to stay by your side."

Shirou turned his head to stare at Arturia, mixed emotions in his gaze, but in the end, he relented.

"Then make it a promise," He said strongly. "Don't leave my side," _Not again._

There was a depth in Shirou's words that although Arturia was uncertain of, she responded to.

"My sword is your sword," the words left Arturia's mouth so naturally that it surprised her. "And you are my sheath. Inseparable."

Shirou for his part visibly stilled, turning his gaze away from Arturia before she noticed the change in his expression.

He shook his head, no longer thinking about how Arturia knew such words. After all, he no longer wanted to harbour anymore false hopes.

Striding forward, he continued on his way to his destination, Arturia following right behind him.

The sight of the burned village was enough to distract Shirou from his thoughts and he actively began searching within the wreckage for clues about what Florance had said about her brother being taken.

Unfortunately, ash and soot were all that was left, making it difficult to find anything.

Shirou stood up from where he was inspecting a pile of burnt debris and considered if his lack of a trail to follow meant that he'd have to give up his endeavor and return to the mountainside.

Sighing, he was moments away from calling to Arturia to leave when he suddenly detected movement a short distance in front of him.

He pulled Arturia to the side and hid alongside her behind a wall of blackened wood.

Peering through the small gaps in the wood of the wall, Shirou sighted a small unit of Knights that dressed differently from the Knights he had previously encountered doing patrols in the area. They weren't fully wearing plate armour, and a different symbol was marked on their chests, making it evident that they were part of a different faction.

He gestured to Arturia and she nodded her head to convey that she understood.

As the unit of Knights passed by, Shirou and Arturia decided to follow them secretly.

Stealth was never Arturia's forte and she was constantly having trouble keeping herself out of sight, but because of her level, she was somehow able to bypass the senses of the Knights by staying far enough away.

Shirou on the other hand, with both his Archer-Class skill set and personal experience was much closer than Arturia, able to hear snippets of conversation.

"This entire campaign is sickening," one the Knights in the unit complained.

"I didn't sign up to be a Knight to kill those who can't even defend themselves."

"There's no honour to be found in this battlefield."

Every word Shirou heard was fraught with complaints.

As it would turn out, most of the Knights ordered to start a massacre in the Berferd Dutchy were heavily against the idea. Not only did it feel morally wrong to them, but it made them question the very foundations of what it meant to be a Knight.

Either to help the weak and uphold integrity.

Or to obey the whims of heartless tyrants.

It was a decision that all Knights stationed in the Berferd Dutchy were struggling to cope with.

Shirou's impression of the current group of Knights was favourable. It was even more so when he noticed them sneak passed another regiment of Knights to procure food which they brought to an abandoned looking house.

"Open up, we have some food for you!" One of the Knights called while knocking on the house's front door.

Slowly, the hinges creaked as the door opened, revealing several haggard looking faces. The unit of Knights immediately handed over the bags of food they carried with sympathetic expressions.

"It's not much, but it's the most our group can grab without being noticed by our superiors," the knights said in shame before hastily making a retreat so that their absence from the main army didn't draw any attention.

It was only when the Knights were no longer in the area that Shirou emerged from hiding along with Arturia.

Unused to the methods of an Assassin, Arturia had numerous sticks and brambled that clung to her after she forced herself to hide within a dense thicket of bushes. Now out in the open, she was frowning while attempting to clean herself.

Meanwhile, Shirou had already moved towards the entrance of the abandoned house and slowly opened the door to enter.

He and Arturia promptly walked inside.

Their sudden intrusion instantly startled the people within who scattered in every direction. However, the interior of the house wasn't spacious to begin with, leaving little room for anyone to maneuver properly.

"W-Who are you?!" One of the people yelled out in fear.

Looking at the way the people were dressed, lightly and in torn rags, Shirou became certain of one thing.

These people were all villagers.

Rather than answer the question left hanging in the air, Shirou posed his own.

"Does anyone here know the name, Florance Loclander?" He asked.

Instantly there was a commotion in the crowd as a teenager roughly sixteen years old pushed his way through, his mouth set into a scowl. Bruises and lacerations spanned across his tanned skin, but he didn't seem to care, his expression feral with his eyes bloodshot.

"T-That's my sister's name! You bastards what did you do to her!" The sixteen-year-old yelled and made to charge before being held back by an old man.

"That's enough Holbert, don't act recklessly," the old man admonished, pushing Holbert behind him.

Thereafter, the old man bowed lowly to Shirou and Arturia, taking note of the clothes they wore of the highest quality.

"My esteemed nobles, surely you'd find it in your hearts not to murder us," the old man spoke solemnly. "We are but children and the elderly. We pose no threat to whatever plans the other Lords have set in play."

Arturia frowned, stepping forward even before Shirou.

Arturia's sense of righteousness had long since been triggered after being informed of what had transpired. She could hardly accept the behaviour of the Nobles presiding over the area, treating villagers as dispensable cattle.

"We mean you no harm," she spoke kindly, placing a hand to her chest. "In fact, we've come here to save you on the request of Florance Loclander," she explained much to Holbert's surprise.

"Y-You came to save us?" The old man asked in stupefaction.

Shirou nodded. Assuming that the level of the Knights was the same as those he had encountered at the mountainside, then with both he and Arturia present, it didn't matter how many Knights the enemy sent. They would still be able to recue everyone.

As if sensing their confidence and power, the old man actually bowed his head lower to make a request.

"You have out eternal gratitude for coming to save us, but will you listen to this old man's words?" The old man waited for a response and continued to maintain a lowered head.

Shirou who was generally unused to the custom of medieval traditions had no idea why the old man would continue to bow his head lowly just to express an opinion.

Arturia though was different.

"Acknowledged, please lift your head. We'll hear you out," Arturia spoke without pause, staring directly at the old man.

There was a regality and caring in Arturia's gaze that somehow earned the respect and recognition of everyone present.

The Power of Charisma.

"Then I thank you milady for your benevolence," the old man released a small smile. "The matter I wish to discuss is actually about the Knights you saw earlier and many others in the Knight's camp. Assuming you plan to break out of here, the two of you must be powerful warriors with a skill-level and profession far above our peasant class."

Arturia didn't disagree with the old man's words.

As far as she was concerned, the current adversaries she was about to face, though numerous in the camp nearby, weren't too much of a threat. More so with Shirou by her side.

Arturia gestured for the old man to go on.

The old man cleared his throat and stared sincerely at both Arturia and Shirou.

"Most of those Knights aren't bad people. Rather than kill us, they chose to disobey their superiors and housed us here instead, even going as far as pilfering food from military provisions," the old man cleared his throat. "I only ask that when you face them, you don't deal a lethal hand."

Arturia and Shirou looked at each other uncertainly before eventually agreeing to the old man's request.

Knights who would disobey direct orders to uphold their integrity weren't just standard Knights, but Knights that Arutira recognized and respected.

The fact that the old man even pleaded on the Knight's behalf conveyed enough to Arturia and Shirou of the integrity of their enemies.

With matters settled, it wasn't long before Shirou and Arturia gathered everybody in a group and made plans to leave. Of course, not everyone trusted Shirou and Arturia, but the majority of the people were won over by the fact that Shirou was acquainted with one of their own, Florance Loclander.

When everyone was set to leave, Arturia and Shirou simply led them out of the abandoned house and on the path to the mountainside. Unlike Shirou and Arturia who possessed the capability to leave in stealth, the same coudln't be said for the children and elderly thy were leading.

It was guaranteed that the army of Knights camped nearby would notice their movements and label them as enemies, but neither Arturia or Shirou were too worried at this point.

The main army of Knights that had initially raided the Berferd Dutchy had long since moved inwards towards the heart of the Dutchy, leaving behind only minor regiments of Knights. This was the case for the current situation with the number of camped Knights merely reaching five-hundred strong.

It was a number that was too small to cause either Shirou or Arturia any trouble.

As expected, the emergence of a large group led by Shrou and Arturia did not go unnoticed for long. Soon the entire area was surrounded by armed Knights.

They stood in neat and orderly rows, kite-shields on their arms and hands gripped over the pommel of their swords. Each of them looked hesitant to act; indecision evident in their gazes as no one wanted the blood of innocents to stain their conscience. Many considered overlooking Shirou and the others, but to so blatantly do so while the commanding officer was nearby was a military death sentence.

However, no Knight wanted to be the first to attack.

Observing the character of the Knights, Arturia was both heartened and outraged, her title as the King of Knights allowing her to judge a Knight for what they were really worth.

Eventually though, a dozen or so Knights stepped forward in resolution, their eyes tinged with heavy layers of remorse and guilt for what they had consigned themselves to do.

Shirou's expression darkened, but faster than Shirou, Arturia acted first.

The ideal image Arturia had of Knights took a heavy blow in her mind at that moment. The resolve the Knights were showing to her severely misplaced.

 _She couldn't stand it._

"Do none of you know any shame, the principle of a Knight is to uphold justice!" Arturia erupted, an invisible pressure and disposition spreading outwards and weighing down directly on the hearts of every Knight present. "What justice is there in hardening yourselves to kill children and the elderly?!"

Arturia stepped forward before the entire encirclement of Knights without even considering her actions, spurned on by her outrage.

If one knew that what they were doing was wrong, and yet still did so anyway despite their morals, then they were worth less than animals in Arturia's eyes.

From what she could see, the Knights before her were not yet passed the point of no redemption.

The fact that they refused to kill the innocent and sheltered them instead spoke volumes of their characters.

What they needed now though was _guidance_.

Guidance to realize that there were times when one's moral value superseded the ironclad rules of orders.

She pointed a finger forward, eyes narrowing.

"Listen here, and listen close!"

Her aura was domineering, her regality unquestionable as she imparted her decree.

The code of Knights.

 _The Laws of Chivalry._

* * *

Kieth Brendle was not certain of what exactly was going on with the division of Knights he was in charge of leading. They had reported the emergence of an enemy within their ranks, yet rather than attack or show any tension, the Knights under his command were oddly still.

It was inconceivable, causing Kieth to personally mount his horse and move to the source of all the commotion. A gathering point where all the Knights in the camp were converging to as if moths to a flame, bewitched and enraptured.

Kieth was a tall and burly man with short and cropped blond hair and numerous scars running across his body too deep to ever fade. He was a man of principle and rationality that had survived numerous conflicts as the subordinate of the Merdings Family of Roble. He upheld his personal honour and believed in the integrity of a just cause and a fair fight.

This was why Kieth himself had overlooked the actions of a few of his men when they chose to shelter the very civilians Lord Merdings had tasked all his Knights to kill. The reason for such ruthlessness on his Lord's part was not lost on Kieth as he understood the detriment it would be to any dutchy to lose its harvesters mere months before the cold seasons.

A prolonged tactic, starvation would weaken the Berferd Dutchy long before Lord Merdings and the other aristocracy suffered any heavy casualties.

Although Kieth knew the practicality of the maneuver, he and his Knights who had histories as fellow lower-class citizens were not too keen on the despicable tactic.

However, orders were orders, no matter how much one disliked them.

His horse carrying him forward, Kieth soon ended up seeing a bewildering sight.

Rows upon rows of his knights which he distinctly recalled ordering to apprehend or kill the enemy all seemed to be visibly flinching without any sign of a weapon being used.

What in the hell?

Kieth had never seen such a thing before. Hundreds of men he fought alongside as brothers visibly flinching in droves as if being berated by an angry father or mother.

He could see a head of bobbed blond hair at the forefront of the encirclement his Knights had established, an ahoge swaying back and forth before an ocean of burly and rough looking Knights.

A finger was pointed forward and waved up and down as if carrying a weight to it that visibly struck the Knights wherever it pointed.

Kieth blinked. Hard. Going as far as to profusely wipe his eyes.

 _By Roble's Holy Valkyrie, what exactly was he seeing here?_

"You!" Kieth pointed towards the nearest Knight and beckoned her over for questioning.

The Knight in question blanked when Kieth called out to her, but she quickly composed herself due to her years of training.

"Why do the Knights stop? Why do they not raise their arms and attack?" The question left Kieth's mouth before he even knew it.

The Knight stood rooted after hearing Kieth's question, not knowing how exactly she should word everything but finally deciding that telling the truth was probably for the best.

"Well Sir, the enemy is, uhm," the Knight scratched her head at a loss for words, a hint of admiration flashing across her eyes as an authoritative and piercing voice cut through the air.

The Knight nodded before promptly ignoring Kieth and saying two words that were incomprehensible to Kieth's ears.

"She's lecturing," the Knight said.

* * *

 **Thanks for Reading!**

 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


	11. Holy City Camelot: Part 8

"There's trouble in the South?" The voice that spoke was both gentle and held traces of concern.

In the entirety of the Roble Kingdom separated by its North and South factions, any citizen from the North would recognize the voice.

The owner belonged to the current Queen of Roble as hailed by the Northern Faction.

Calca Bessarez, a woman whose gentle smile and soft features could be described as angelic. She wore white on a daily basis as if to reflect her purity and compassion for her subjects and was said to be the embodiment of a saint. She was highly sought after amidst many young bachelors of the Kingdom, but as if cursed by some sick joke, she had not once found herself a suitable partner. Instead, rumours were beginning to spread about an illicit relationship she had going with the Custodio sisters that irked her to no end. Her strict requirements for a husband only made the rumours worse when she turned down several dozen marriage prospects at a time.

Her hands subtly balled into fists in her vexation, but nothing could stop the recurring migraine of her love-life.

Still, for the time being, it wasn't something she would dwell on.

Presently, she was in a fitted dress resembling mage robes while staring absently outside a single-paneled window of her current abode: a tiny villa constructed amidst a dense forest to escape the attention of the fervent masses.

Alongside Calca were her two most trusted allies.

Remedios Custodio and Kelart Custodio, the two individuals regarded as Calca's 'Twin Wings.'

It was through both Remedios and Kelart's efforts that Calca was able to secure her position as Queen despite opposition from the other prominent Nobles of Roble. Many of the Nobles were in favour of Caspond, Calca's older brother, inheriting the throne. However, Caspond himself declined while Calca's father directly appointed Calca as heir, leaving the Nobles with no choice but to accede which subsequently divided the Kingdom.

Those in the North supported Calca's rule, while those in the South remained skeptical and secretly refused to acknowledge Calca's position.

Messy politics created the current mess, and Calca was still far from solving it.

"Well?" Calca pressed for an answer when neither Remedios and Kelart responded right away to her previous question. She turned around to stare at her two friends and loyal advisers.

Remedios had a blank expression on her face while her bob-cut hairstyle made it seem as if she was frowning. She was known as the highest-level Paladin of Roble and the strongest Paladin of the Kingdom. She wore a standard set of holy armour and was standing with her arms crossed in disinterest. It was to the point that it was clear that she didn't care about the current topic at all and it was only made more obvious when she turned her head to the side.

Calca didn't expect Remedios to contribute much to the conversation anyway as Remedios dedicated herself more towards the Martial Path unlike Kelart.

"The thing is your majesty," Kelart began slowly with a frown. She brushed back a strand of her long hair which fell past her shoulders and down to her waist. "The situation in the south remains uncertain."

Kelart was known as a High-Priestess in Roble and was actually the most fearsome woman in the Northern Holy Kingdom. As the High-Priestess of the churches and leader of the priesthood, not only was she talented, but she held a great deal of influence. All she was waiting for was an opportunity to deal with the last dredges of opposing Nobles that looked down on her and dared question Calca's rule.

As Kelart finished speaking, Calca finally shifted her attention away from staring out the window and grew solemn as she regarded Kelart.

"What do you mean?" Calca asked doubtfully. "Didn't we plant our own spies to set up an intelligence network in the South?"

Despite being amicable on the surface, Calca knew better than anyone how the Southern aristocracy viewed her. One mistake was all it would take for all of them to vehemently denounce her. Therefore, it was best to know their movements and plans beforehand.

"As you should know lady Calca, it hasn't been that long since we've decided to create an information network in the South. As such, it's been difficult to plant our spies too deep into the southern territory with how cautious those old bastards are," Kelart explained. The frown on her face grew more pronounced the longer she spoke. "Most of our spies were placed in the Berferd dutchy whose borders fall within the line between North and South Roble to garner less attention."

Kelart stared at Calca directly as tension suffused the air. "We've lost contact with every single one of them."

Silence.

Calca gradually pursed her lips before she fell into contemplation. Had her actions been found out so quickly? Were the Southern Nobles so capable? No, no, more than anything else, what exactly was the South planning?

Calca began to pace back and forth, Kelart watching in silence to await Calca's orders while Remedios was getting impatient.

"A suggestion, lady Calca," Remedios spoke up for the first time in the three's hidden meeting.

Calca rose a brow, but it didn't take her long to guess what advise Remedios was planning on giving her. "If you're going to say to just use force, then forget about it."

Remedios stiffened as she stood awkwardly, her mouth open but no words coming out. She coughed into her hand in embarrassment and acted as if she didn't speak at all.

Calca smiled wryly at Remedios. It was true that it was possible to force submission on the Southern Nobles, but at what cost? Southern Roble was roughly equal in military might to Northern Roble. The amount of bloodshed produced in a civil war was something Calca adamantly wished to avoid as the Demi-Humans were already hard enough to deal with.

"If only Roble could have stayed united," Calca lamented.

Kelart's expression softened as she was quick to console.

"You can't win over the south like this my Queen," Kelart spoke bluntly. "You need to take a hard-line stance with your duty as a Queen to win over the trust of the Southern Kingdom or Roble will always be divided. And that's why we need to know what's going on down there."

Calca nodded. "Indeed. It's too weird too suddenly lose all contact with the spies in the Berfered Dutchy. Something must be going on in the South."

"And what would you have us do? I admit I'm not exactly very useful with planning so I'll trust you to just point me along," Remedios said with slight mirth.

Kelart scoffed in jest.

"Stop acting like a fool elder sister. We just need to know what's happening in the South and sending you would be a mistake as your face it too recognizable. Anyone in the south will instantly associate you with Calca which could make them even more guarded."

Kelart placed a hand on Remedios's shoulder and heavily dissuaded her sister.

Meanwhile, Calca was thinking with a finger tapping her chin before coming to a suitable answer.

"Send Pavel Baraja of the Nine Colours to investigate. As a skilled Archer, he's also quite proficient in the Ranger class, making him able to double as an efficient scout."

Calca's suggestion was met with approval. The Nine Colours denoted the strongest individuals of Roble. Even if Pavel caught himself in a bind, it was more likely for the man to escape with his life and report.

"An excellent suggestion," Kelart complimented. "I'll have Remedios call for him right away.

Calca's only response was to acknowledge Kelart's words as Remedios left the room. Despite sending Pavel Baraja, Calca couldn't help but feel anxious.

Something wasn't right with the South, and something told her that today's current events wouldn't be the last of her concerns.

Just what in the world was going on in the South? Calca lamented wearily.

* * *

Elsewhere, Shirou felt for the first time that he had underestimated Arturia's sense of righteousness. More accurately, maybe it was his fault for making her that way.

She was currently glaring at a multitude of Knights that surrounded her, but Shirou wasn't the least bit concerned.

Arturia was the Raid-Boss of Camelot in YGGDRASIL. Her current adversaries weren't even enough to pierce through her armour without a magic nullification skill.

Faced with Arturia's glare, many of the Knights lowered their heads in disgrace.

"I, I, no we…" One of the Knights roused the courage to speak but quickly faltered in his attempt.

"Do you all not even have any words to explain yourselves!?" Arturia rebuked harshly. "Knights uphold justice and protect the weak. All of you as Knights should understand the principle of not attacking the innocent."

"In the name of orders?"

"In the name of authority?"

"What is it that divides a Knight from a common bandit? It's one's sense of self and personal belief. It's chivalry!"

Arturia's lips thinned as she lectured. It was almost like her words were physical blows that relentlessly hammered down on the Knights until all were so heavily stifled that they didn't dare release a sound. Many of the Knights felt that their actions were wrong and were inwardly guilty for their current responsibilities. The only redeeming quality they had was that they weren't part of the unit of Knights that first raided the lightly guarded towns.

"If you still believe it's right to raise your weapons against the children and the elderly, then throw those useless swords and spears away this instant. You are not Knights in my eyes." Arturia crossed her arms and fell silent.

Tension filled the air along with a sense of wonderment.

Every Knight present to hear Arturia's words felt as if something had changed about them. It wasn't just their mentality, but their stats as well.

Knights in the New World were separated by levels, and many of the lower leveled Knights realized that over the course of Arturia's lecturing, their levels had steadily been increasing. Hell, a level one Knight had directly jumped to level two.

It was astonishing not only to Kieth, the Captain of the Knights that had forcibly pushed himself to the front, but to all the Knights present.

The knowledge Arturia was imparting as the King of Knights was received as a form of experience to all that listened. It was similar to experience books in YGGDRASIL, a loot item which granted bonus XP to a player.

In the New World, YGGDRASIL's mechanics seemed no different, the acquisition of new knowledge increasing one's experience bars.

Kieth and the other Knights were rendered dumbfounded, unable to understand what had happened but they all knew that they had benefitted from Arturia's actions.

They swallowed hard, none daring to block Arturia's path as she began walking.

It was like the sea was parting much to the bewilderment of the children and elderly rescued. Shirou for his part didn't comment but he was staring fondly at Arturia.

As Shirou and the others moved unimpeded, one man couldn't simply stand around and do nothing.

"J-Just wait one moment!" Kieth called out blankly. He was the Captain in charge of the Knights present and he knew it would be impossible to explain himself to his superiors if he just did nothing as Shirou and Arturia left.

Shirou paused in his steps and turned around to address the Knight Captain.

"You would choose to stop us?" He asked to clarify.

Kieth shuddered as he felt Arturia's piercing gaze level on him. He could still vividly recall Arturia's lecture and knew that she wasn't to be trifled with. What level of a Knight did she have to be to increase the Knight proficiency of others with just her words alone? Kieth was inwardly terrified to find out, but he gritted his teeth and boldly conveyed his plight.

"I understand from your words that a Knight must have integrity to know what's right and what's wrong, but as a man caring for a family, I must stop you here." Kieth shakily unsheathed his sword which wobbled unsteadily in his hands. "My family lives in the territory of the Hubert dutchy and if I abandon my duties the Duke will punish my family."

Kieth's voice caused a stir of realization amongst the Knights, many solemnly drawing forth their swords before Kieth reprimanded them.

"No, you idiots! Put your swords away and let me finish!" Kieth hollered unexpectedly.

Shirou blinked in confusion as Kieth clicked his tongue.

Kieth had years of experience on the battlefield and it wasn't difficult for him to notice Shirou and Arturia's lack of weariness. It was if they weren't concerned at all for their lives which meant only two things for a veteran like Kieth. Either they were fools, or they were exceedingly strong. Kieth was leaning towards the latter option due to Arturia's previous display.

Kieth bowed his head in request to Arturia. "Take us as war prisoners!" he earnestly requested.

Not only would becoming war prisoners allow Kieth and the Knights to avoid conflict with Shirou and Arturia, but it would also eliminate any suspicions of betrayal Duke Hubert may have. In doing so, Kieth's family could remain safe in the Hubert dutchy while Kieth even had the hope of listening to Arturia lecture more in the future.

Kieth's thoughts were soon mirrored by the other Knights who promptly followed Kieth's actions. It only helped that many Knights were both swayed by Arturia and revolted the orders of the Nobility to kill the peasants tilling the fields.

"This," Arturia's lips curved down into a frown before staring at Shirou for a decision. She didn't want to needlessly add to Shirou's burdens.

Fortunately, Shirou was quick to approve of a peaceful solution and nodded.

"Very well," Arturia said with a nod.

Kieth and the other Knights looked to each other before releasing a sigh of relief.

With the pressing matters settled, Shirou and Arturia quickly began leading everyone back to the mountainside.

The Knights, contrary to acting like war prisoners, surrounded the children and elderly to protect them at the center. Arturia smiled lightly as a result which caused many of the younger Knights to realize her beauty and fall into a daze.

Keith scoffed at the younger Knights in his unit, but couldn't help but admit that if he was younger, he probably would have had acted the same. Unfortunately, he was already a married and committed man. Putting aside all the attention Arturia was receiving, Kieth was more curious about Shirou's identity.

Kieth didn't miss the way Arturia had looked to Shirou before approving the request of taking on war prisoners. This one action showed the dynamic between the two and Kieth couldn't help but grow curious about Shirou's identity.

Looking at both Shirou and Arturia, Kieth was quick to assume that they were Nobles, especially Arturia. Her bearing were too regal and refined to be anywhere close to the disposition of a commoner.

Kieth looked to the ground to hide his rising pensiveness. As a veteran Knight, he had served by Duke Hubert's side for years and had seen the various southern Nobles of importance. Naturally, Kieth had never seen Shirou and Arturia before and couldn't help but think of the only place they may have come from.

Northern Roble.

Were they affiliated with Calca Bessarez?

Keith suddenly felt a pit form in his stomach as the possibility surfaced in his mind. As the Queen of Roble, the Southern Nobles knew that one of Calca's goals was to re-unite the Kingdom.

If Shirou and Arturia were affiliated with the Queen, what sort of intentions did the Queen have? Kieth only had one answer. Other that causing war and strife, there was no way the Southern Nobles would submit to Calca's rule, and therefore Keith shuddered.

In fact, what if the attack on the Berferd Dutchy was instigated by the North to cause unrest in the South to weaken their forces?

Kieth didn't want to think about the possibility any longer and hoped his conjecture was wrong. Otherwise, civil war would eventually come.

Keith grew unnaturally silent as Shirou and Arturia progressed with the group, but no one seemed to care or notice.

Many of the Knights were gathering to walk alongside Arturia and requesting her to impart her knowledge on chivalry which she happily began doing.

Meanwhile, Shirou acted as the main scout of the group by moving ahead and choosing a path for the group to follow. The terrain had long since shifted away from flat plains and was gradually transitioning back into a forest. The grass underfoot was becoming sparser and more patches of brown dirt and gravel were showing.

With the speed the group was going at, Shirou speculated that they would arrive at the destination in three hours at best.

Surveying around him, Shirou's eyes stilled as he spotted a large gathering of Knights, Cavalry, and civilians approaching fast in his direction.

"Incoming!" He called out a warning to Arturia and the others who immediately took up defensive formations. The option of running was currently impossible with the slow pacing of the children and elderly that Shirou and Arturia were escorting.

Kieth ordered his Knights to protect the civilians in the middle as Arturia stood out in the front alongside Shirou.

It didn't take long for the other group to arrive and surround them. The hostility in the air was overbearing and became palpable when the enemy soldiers noticed the armours Kieth and the others were wearing.

"Villainous bastards! To think you'd appear here too," a cavalryman seethed, readying his lance. From the symbol on the Cavalryman's chest, the situation became clear to Kieth.

"The Berferd Family's armed squadron," Keith muttered in astonishment. "But they never leave the premises of the Berferd family mansion."

It was just as Kieth said. The Berferd Family's armed squadron were akin to personal guards of the Berferd family and would never leave the main family mansion unless on the orders of the Duke.

The fact that the squadron was present meant only one thing.

Shirou's gaze focused on a robust-looking man with fierce eyes and tanned skin. He wore long blue aristocratic robes over his steel armour and was glaring at Kieth and the Knights belonging to Duke Hubert.

The man was Duke Berferd. The Duke's whose dutchy was in the midst of an attack.

"Wait! STOP STOP!" An urgent voice rang out moments before Duke Berferd was about to command an attack.

As soon as the voice resounded, Duke Berferd couldn't help but frown as it continued.

"Lower your arms, don't fight!"

A familiar individual immediately ran to the center of attention, his movements frantic. As a result, Duke Berferd reluctantly called back his forces.

Panting for breath, a young man stood apologetically in front of Shirou and Arturia.

"Vincent Berferd?" Arturia spoke out the name.

Vincent seemed haggard. Ever since Shirou had parted ways with the man, Vincent had been able to return to the Berferd Dutchy only to find it under siege. He immediately contacted his father and began a defensive battle, but with enemies approaching on all sides, Duke Berferd had no choice but to abandon the main-house and seek shelter elsewhere. This was when Vincent came up with an idea.

"Sorry, this has to be some sort of misunderstanding," Vincent panted for breath before eying Keith and the others suspiciously. "And they are?"

"Prisoners of war," Kieth admitted quickly before either Shirou or Arturia could speak.

Kieth's response seemed only natural to Vincent who'd seen Arturia's capabilities first-hand, but to Duke Berferd and the rest, they were incredulous. Kieth and the other Knights numbered in the hundreds while Shirou and Arturia only had children and elderly on their side.

To Duke Berferd, it was more likely that Shirou and Arturia were the prisoners of war, prompting the man to shake his head in doubt. However, the testimonies of Keith and the rest were undeniable proof of the current situation.

"Vincent, we have no time for this," Duke Berferd admonished, riding his horse forward. "Where exactly was this safe place you were trying to take us to?"

Duke Berferd's reminder caused Vincent's face to redden awkwardly.

"Uhm, yeah, well," Vincent scratched his cheek before glancing at Shirou and Arturia.

The meaning of Vincent's action was evident enough.

Shirou smiled wryly. It was highly likely that Vincent had brought his family to seek aid from him and Arturia after witnessing the strength they possessed.

Vincent knew he was overstepping his bounds as he owed Arturia a life's debt, but he felt that he had no other choice. If Arturia was who Vincent thought she was, then she was the only hope in his eyes.

"Please," Vincent bowed his head. "Even if you decide not to take us in, may you at least take the civilian we rescued on our way? They were innocent in all this and they shouldn't needlessly suffer any longer."

Vincent's request created murmurs throughout the Berferd Knights and Cavalry.

"Vincent, what exactly are you saying?" Duke Berferd asked in doubt.

Vincent ignored his father and continued bowing his head to convey the depth of his earnesty.

Shirou looked at the way that Arturia was subtly nodding at him and made his decision. He was never one to avoid helping others anyway. He gave Arturia his consent and let her speak due to her higher level of Charisma.

"Please follow us. We will house your forces," Arturia said kindly.

Duke Berferd and many of his men were still skeptical, but seeing how brightly Vincent was beaming, they chose not to voice their opinions immediately. However, Duke Berferd was still tense as he looked uneasily in the direction his group had come from.

"We have to move. Those Bastards are still in pursuit," Duke Berferd called out.

Vincent sobered at his father's reminder. Ever since escaping the Berferd Dutchy, he and his father had been relentlessly pursued. Fortunately, Vincent was familiar with the terrain and had been able to widen the gap between his family's pursuers.

It was then that everyone realised the problem.

The children and elderly stared regretfully at themselves. Most of the civilians Duke Berferd had saved were young men and women able to move at a considerable pace. A pace that the children and elderly would not be able to follow.

Duke Berferd frowned. His personality and beliefs wouldn't allow him to leave behind the children and elderly. He recognized that all of them were his faithful subjects that toiled his fields and provided enough food for the dutchy in the winters. He would never abandon them as their lord.

"We stand here and fight," Duke Berferd declared decisively. "The children and elderly leave first while my men and I will buy you time to flee."

"D-Duke Berferd," the elderly and children were visibly moved. None of them expected a Noble to care about the lives of commoners yet Duke Berferd decided to stay behind.

Duke Berferd's selflessness was what cemented the loyalty of his followers. At Duke Berferd's orders, the Knights and Cavalry around began to prepare for battle.

Seeing the situation playing out in front of him, Shirou could no longer sit still. As he had agreed to take in Duke Berferd and the others, he was going to protect them. He contemplated just sending either himself or Arturia to obstruct the enemy pursuit, but Arturia was necessary in order to fully utilize the capabilities of Camelot while he himself wanted to prepare some defences. It would be inconvenient for him or Arturia to act personally, so therefore, he'd just have to call for some help.

Nodding his head, Shirou swiftly disappeared from sight and reappeared a short distance away behind a dense patch of trees. Arturia had come with him after notifying Vincent of their short absence to not rouse any suspicions. Making sure that he and Arturia were alone, Shirou stretched out his hand in front of him and invoked a skill.

" **Greater Summon.** "

It was a skill that he possessed as the creator of numerous NPCs in YGGDRASIL. Keeping track of them all as they roamed across the realms of the World Tree was impossible therefore his Greater Summon skill allowed him to call to summon them directly before him. There was a condition to his summons however. The summoned individual would have to be willing for the summon to work. As most NPCs he created would not deny his summons, the skill's success rate was fairly high.

A magic circle soon formed beneath him. It was formed from intersecting circles and trigrams glowing with a fiery magical light. From the magic circle, a man steadily emerged wearing a form-fitting blue jumpsuit with metal shoulder pads.

There was a feral expression on the man's face and his blood-red eyes gave the impression of a predator on the prowl.

The man was Ireland's Child of Light.

The Shield of Ulster.

Cu Chulainn and a near immortal area boss in YGGDRASIL's Land of Shadows.

Knowing Cu's personality, Shirou got right to the point.

"There's an enemy army chasing," he said. "Stall them."

Cu stretched his arms, resting the red spear in his hands over his shoulder while frowning.

"Stall? Not kill?" Cu asked to clarify.

"Deal with only those that are necessary," Shirou answered promptly.

Most soldiers in an army didn't share the goals of their commanding leaders. To common soldiers, all that mattered was earning their wages and returning home to feed their families. It wasn't their fault entirely that they were made to battle. Besides, Shirou was averse to needless slaughter. Defeating the generals and leaders would be enough to cause unrest.

Cu sighed as he scratched the back of his head before he grinned.

"Sounds interesting," Cu said before growing exasperated. "It's at least more interesting than the task my teacher gave me."

Shirou rose a brow but chose not to ask. However, Cu had some questions himself as he couldn't possibly ignore the assignment given to him by his mentor. If he did so, it was quite likely that he'd re-live his darker moments of the past while training in the Land of Shadows.

"Say, Master," Cu began awkwardly. "You wouldn't happen to know where a 'pompous white-haired philandering pansy of a wizard' would be would you? Better yet, could I ask you to summon him in front of me as a reward for this task later?"

Cu's teacher said that he couldn't return until he'd located the Wizard and marked him with one of his teacher's tracking runes. Cu couldn't help but shake his head. Although Cu could respect what the Wizard had done, he shuddered just remembering the expression on his teacher's face.

The poor bastard.

Cu couldn't help but pity the fool of a Wizard. Unfortunately, if Cu had to choose between the Wizard and himself for his teacher's punishment, he'd choose the Wizard in a heartbeat.

An unnatural expression made its way onto Arturia's face as she heard Cu's question, the tips of her cheeks tinging red as she turned her head to the side in embarrassment. Already she could imagine who exactly Cu's target was, and it shamed her to know that she had once called such a man her mentor.

Noticing the change in Arturia's demeanor, Shirou hesitated before agreeing to Cu's request. It was only after Arturia composed herself and nodded her head coldly in agreement that he approved of Cu's reward.

Elsewhere, Merlin felt a shudder travel down his back as if he'd been betrayed.

"Thanks," Cu seemed visibly relieved before his countenance grew serious. "I'll be back."

* * *

Tyra Bremming was the woman in charge of leading the pursuit against Duke Berferd, and for one reason or another, she felt an ominous premonition in the air.

The army she was leading was currently trudging along through a vast expanse of fields following the path Duke Berferd had taken.

Tyra found it strange. Judging from the direction Duke Berferd was fleeing, there would be nothing but a desolate mountain awaiting him. There was no way his group could survive too long in the wilderness either.

The entire pursuit was suicide, so why was Duke Berferd still so determined?

As Tyra pondered to herself, a droplet of rain landed on her nose.

She scrunched her face up in annoyance and stared up at the grey clouds above, praying that the rain would hold off until the end of her chase as mud would complicate things.

Wind began to pick up, generating a cold front that battered against Tyra's armour.

She shivered as her lips pursed.

More than ever she felt that something was wrong.

Her army continued marching regardless. The numerous captains and sub-captains that made up every individual Knight corps ordered their troops onward. Duke Berferd hadn't been able to run too far ahead and it wouldn't be long before Tyra and the rest eventually caught up.

In a flash of lightning above, Tyra could have sworn she saw someone ahead. A man with blue hair tied back into a ponytail.

She blinked, and the image was gone, but the memory of a pair of deep crimson eyes remained ingrained in her mind.

Goosebumps travelled down her skin, the back of her neck tingling.

Footsteps.

She darted her gaze back and forth around the open plains but still found nothing.

The tall reeds began to sway.

It was the song of the open plains.

The legend Ulster and a hound over the red fields.

Tyra's breathing quickened, a feeling of danger nearly overwhelming her.

Nervously, she drew forth the wand on her waist and began casting.

" **Lesser Detection**."

She activated a sensory skill much to the bewilderment of those around her. An invisible wave of magic shot outwards with her at the center. Each person it passed through would be indicated by a red or blue outline, blue for ally, and red for enemy.

As her field of vision filled up with blue light, a trace of red entered her peripherals, a vague outline seemingly smirking at her before fading in an instant.

Tyra stiffened. Had she just imagined it?

She cast **Lesser Detection** again, but this time, there wasn't a trace of red almost as if the world was playing tricks on her.

Inhaling sharply, she did her best to regain her composure, yet it was then that she heard it distinctly.

Footsteps.

Closer.

It was almost as if she was a tiny animal being hunted by a predator with how vulnerable she felt.

Beads of sweat were forming on her brows and her fellow Captains were beginning to look at her oddly.

She didn't care.

At the center of her vision, she finally saw it as her complexion paled.

A man holding a red spear standing at the front of the army accompanied by the howl of the wind and the acrid scent of iron.

 _'_ _Cu the Immortal,' as dubbed in YGGDRASIL's forums._

A hound leering at its prey.

* * *

 **Thanks for Reading!**

 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


	12. Holy City Camelot: Part 9

People of upstanding character are always the most well received. Whether they be in positions of command and authority, or working in the bottom spectrums of society, they all had an ability to gather the approval of the masses.

Staring at Duke Berferd refusing to escape for the sake of his duchy's people, Shirou had already decided that he couldn't turn a blind eye to the Duke's predicament.

The rustling of leaves beneath his feet prickled at his ears, but he was already used to the New World around him. It was his new reality, and nothing around him was a game any longer.

Children were sobbing, mothers weeping for the loss of friends and family.

Nothing in YGGDRASIL could replicate the authenticity of the tears he could see before him.

His hands balled into fists as he let out a sigh.

He had already sent Cu to stop the approaching enemies, but it didn't resolve anything in regards to comforting the people in front of him. Moreover, he still had to convince Duke Berferd that he and his men didn't have to stay behind to buy time for the elderly and children to escape.

On one hand, it would probably be easier if he just explained the matter of Cu running interference, but there was a problem with that method. He'd have to reveal that there was more to him than what Vincent Berferd must have had already reported to his father.

He subtly glanced at Arturia's direction.

She was standing guard near the children and elderly in precaution for any unforeseen incidents, however, she seemed to be having a difficult time maintaining her vigilance. The stronger-willed children were running around her, staring at her up and down in awe due to the regal disposition she exuded naturally. Eventually, she could no longer maintain her neutrality when the one and two-year olds who'd escaped their mother's grasp began attempting to climb up her legs.

She was fine with it at the beginning, yet she never had the experience to deal with children to begin with, especially toddlers.

She stared anxiously at him, but he pretended not to see her predicament when one of the children started drooling on her blue mantle and crying when she tried to take it away.

"A-A child must not cry when they don't get what they want," she rebuked to no result. The child merely stared at her before unexpectedly laughing, forsaking Arturia's mantle in favour of climbing her shoulders.

Arturia's lip twitched, but it was too dangerous to allow the child to climb any higher without support. Reaching out with her arms, she supported the child with her hands but grew dismayed when the child simply used her actions to settle nicely over her head. She could hear a distinct gurgling noise before the feeling of wet saliva began trailing down her forehead and then down her face.

Her complexion turned ashen.

She could not possibly name a time when such a situation had ever befallen her.

War and the battlefield were all that she had devoted her life towards.

Child rearing had not once crossed her mind, let alone how to deal with them. Proper reasoning and rationality would not work in the face of a baby who could not understand.

With a child clinging onto her head and numerous other children and toddlers starting to climb up her legs, she looked absolutely miserable. Well, miserable was perhaps taking it to far, but she was distinctly uncomfortable nonetheless; unable to utilize any of her strength lest she harm the children. Her mouth was opening and closing, wanting to cry out for help, for salvation, but unable to shed her dignity as Royalty in front of so many individuals, she could only force herself to tolerate.

She tried to signal to Shirou with her eyes, but the moment she turned her head, it was to the sight of another toddler who made his way to latch onto her shoulder. Inwardly, she felt like wailing in frustration.

Looking at Arturia, Shirou smiled in mirth.

Yes. Arturia and the others were the reason he could not divulge his capabilities too much otherwise it would be too difficult to extricate himself and the others from the New World's problems.

If Shirou were alone, he probably wouldn't care for such a result, but the point was that he wasn't. Under him were numerous NPCs of his own creation looking to him for guidance in the New World, some more than others.

Until he was certain that his actions would not implicate them, he would first attempt to remain as low profile as possible. After all, he cared for all of them.

Lost in thought, he suddenly felt a tug on his sleeve.

 _Ignore it Shirou. Ignore it._

What he couldn't see, he couldn't help.

Just from the sound of giggling and laughter around him, he was certain he knew just who exactly was currently tugging on his sleeve. Turning his head now would give him more trouble than it was worth, and besides, he still needed to convince Duke Berferd that the danger had passed.

Inwardly apologizing to Arturia in his mind, he pulled away from her grip just as she tried to step in front of him, making it impossible for him to say he didn't notice her plight. He stifled his amusement. For some reason he could have had sworn that he had heard a forlorn whimper of helplessness. It was borderline on the verge of despair.

 _No. There was no way he was going to help her right now._

 _Besides._

Shirou's expression grew exceedingly neutral as he subtly glanced at Arturia at the corner of his peripherals.

 _He was enjoying the view._

A recollection that he would store away and never forget.

The King who was generally composed and always carrying a regal aura, suddenly reduced to the disposition of a mother suddenly realizing the difficulty of raising newborns. It came with all the perks too: disheveled hair, twitching eyes, and drool, plenty of drool that stained her armour and clothing sticky.

His mood exceedingly bright at a new treasured memory, he made his way towards Duke Berferd and left a crestfallen Arturia behind.

Duke Berferd was standing with his arms crossed staring in the direction he knew the enemy to be chasing from. Beside him was Vincent and the other Knights of the household who were setting up a defensive line using their camping supplies as make-shift barriers.

Vincent was the first to notice Shirou's approach, yet before he could notify his father, he momentarily froze in shock when he caught sight of Arturia. Unlike the elderly and citizens being escorted, Vincent and the others had busied themselves in preparation for an attack. As such, when Vincent finally turned to Shirou's direction, the sight of Arturia buried in a pile of children was what awaited him. His mouth hung open before closing abruptly, pretending as if he didn't see anything when Arturia tried to call out to him and the other Knights.

Shirou for his part, forcibly maintained his neutrality lest Arturia figure out that he was intentionally leaving her to the wolves rather then having an objective. In which case, the time for idling around was over.

With another step, he arrived by Duke Berferd's side, the man glancing over at him by rolling his eyes to the left. From the frown on his face, Duke Berferd was clearly displeased with how the situation was unfolding.

He glowered, his arms uncrossing as he turned to face Shirou.

"My men and I are putting are lives on the line to allow you and your colleague to lead my dukedom's people to safety, and yet, why do you not run?" He chastised harshly. "Are you belittling the convictions of the men you see before you?"

Many of the Knights Duke Berferd brought were haggard, their eyes sunken in and the tips of their fingers caked with blood that had dripped down from the fuller of their swords. A foul odour persistently clung onto them which only became more apparent the closer Shirou stood from them.

These men had probably been marching and protecting their fellow citizens for hours give or take an entire day. Yet still, they didn't voice any discontent on Duke Berferd's decision despite their armours and weapons having long since their luster.

With a simple Observation skill which displayed an individual's basic stats and status, Shirou understood that the lesser enchantments branded onto the apparel of the Knights had worn out. The chest-piece of the Knight nearest to him for example used to have a durability of fifty and an enchantment of + 1 Power and Healing. Now however, the enchantment was rendered useless and the durability a measly seven.

There was no denying the courage and principle which drove these Knights to be so selfless. It was fully in line with the Code of Chivalry Arturia was at the pinnacle of, and this was why she had insisted that they were to remain safe.

Shirou in no way meant to tarnish the valour Duke Berferd and his Knights were displaying.

"Not at all." He waved his hand in front of him in a gesture of good-faith. "Would you believe me if I said that the danger has passed?"

"No," Duke Berferd spoke bluntly, his brows furrowing. "The chasing enemy is too vast to be dealt with using common means unless you're implying that you have an army to combat them?"

Well, Shirou _did_ all things considered.

His expression became oddly stiff.

Many of the NPC's he'd created lived up to the title of 'one-man-army.' Gathering them all up together could make for an almost impossible challenge for any enemy or Player period. And yet, he would not due such a thing without understanding their stances on what they want to do in the New World. Therefore, it was best to stay away from the topic.

"I have my means," he shied away from Duke Berferd's inquiry before pressing a hand to his chest and staring the Duke in the eyes. "The enemy won't have the time to catch up so we can take the time to move as a large convoy."

The surety of his tone caught Duke Berferd by surprise. The man stared at him in appraisal for several seconds before releasing his breath.

"Are you asking me to trust you?" The Duke spoke softly, his tone gravelly and rough. "Do you know how big of weight I have on my shoulders to look after my people? To place their lives over a gamble, what makes you worthy of that level of trust?"

He nodded inwardly at the Duke's caution for it was only natural. If the Duke agreed too quickly then it would too suspicious either way.

"We have just met for the first time, therefore nothing," Shirou freely admitted while stretching out his hand. "However, that doesn't mean I can't offer assurance."

Duke Berferd peered at Shirou's outstretched hand in curiosity. "What assurance can you possibly have to sway my opinion?" He asked.

Noticing the seriousness in Duke Berferd's demeanor, he responded in kind.

"This," his face displayed no signs of movement whatsoever as potent magical energy manifested over his palm. "Should the enemy catch up to us, then I will be the first to offer resistance. I won't allow anyone else to get hurt."

Shirou was fully intent on carrying out his promise.

Duke Berferd assessed Shirou up and down before realizing that Shirou was dead serious. Moreover, even with his level and experieicne, he could not assess the depth of the magical power he could see on Shirou's palm. Besides, just from Shirou's disposition alone, there was not an ounce of indecision to be found anywhere on him. Duke Berferd trusted his senses, more so because of his experience and the special connection men had to assess each other without the need for words.

When Duke Berferd looked at Shirou, he saw the valor of his younger years.

Duke Berferd cast away his serious demeanor and suddenly burst into laughter. "Very well, this Duke shall take on this gamble," he said, clasping Shirou's hand and giving it a good shake and squeeze.

Shirou for his part didn't feel it at all as he dissipated the YGGDRASIL-based magic in his hand. He was too busy attempting to use the right level of strength such that he didn't crush the Duke's hand by accident as his body was still under the effects of reinforcement just to be cautious.

Pulling their hands away, Shirou was stunned for a moment when he noticed Duke Berferd gingerly stretching his body without a care.

"Are we not leaving yet?" Shirou couldn't help but ask. With Duke Berferd's agreement, Shirou was already prepared to gather everyone and start moving, yet the Duke seemed too relaxed all of a sudden.

Hearing Shirou's question, Duke Berferd raised a brow while he sheathed his sword on the strap connected to his waist.

"What's the rush? I thought you said the enemy wouldn't be coming," Duke Berferd spoke absently, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Besides, I need more time to observe the one that's caught my son's admiration."

Duke Berferd was openly staring at Arturia. Now that he wasn't weighed down by the threat of an enemy, his true nature as a soft-hearted old man appeared.

"Your partner is quite a kind person, isn't she?" Duke Berferd asked him as the man placed a thumb beneath his chin. "How good of a character must she have for the children to accept her without hesitation? It's inconceivable as children of a young age are the hardest to get along with aside from their parents."

Shirou silently agreed with Duke Berferd's assessment but didn't open his mouth to speak. He didn't need to for Duke Berferd, Vincent, and all the other people nearby to understand. Despite being outside her comfort levels, Arturia put up with the children playing around her and even made sure that they didn't injure themselves while doing so. By this point, her clothes were covered in patches of drool and her hair was in absolute disarray. There was even a toddler playing with her ahoge; the little tyke tugging and twisting it so roughly that Shirou grew concerned that it might fall off and release a dark aspect.

For the time being, everyone stared at her for what she was.

She was kind. Kinder than most.

More than just being a King or wise ruler, it was this aspect of her that Shirou had always loved.

"Have you looked enough Duke Berferd?" Shirou asked, a tender expression on his face as his focus remained on Arturia.

Duke Berferd gradually nodded his head. Even though he hadn't seen the capabilities Vincent had described Arturia to have, he was already won over by her integrity and natural charm.

"I've seen enough." Duke Berferd turned his gaze away and shifted his attention back towards Shirou. He nodded. "Please lead the way."

Shirou took a moment longer to stare at Arturia before moving to her aid and coaxing the children to leave her. Most of them ran back to their mothers, but several had actually been orphaned due to the attacks on the Berferd dutchy.

The orphaned children stood in place awkwardly as Duke Berferd and Vincent organized the others into a proper convoy.

Shirou stared at Arturia, and she stared back at him.

She probably knew what he was going to say even without him saying it.

He placed a hand on her shoulder, and she slowly tried to shake her head in refusal.

"I-I ugh, I've done enough," she whispered. "It's _your_ turn," she insisted while attempting to wipe the drool out of her hair.

Although he could understand the point Arturia was making for the sake of fairness, whose fault was it that the children took a liking to her?

Over the course of Arturia whispering to him, the orphaned children had only been staring at her alone.

Of course, Arturia noticed this fact with her high level of awareness, and that's why it made it all the more difficult for her to refuse. Her shoulders sagged as she resigned herself to her fate. She could only hope that Merlin wouldn't see her in her current condition or she'd never hear the end of it with him.

"Y-You all…fine," Arturia spoke dejectedly as the orphaned children once again surrounded her.

With Arturia preoccupied, the job of leading fell onto Shirou's hands alone while Arturia reluctantly trailed from the back, her eyes hollow as kids clung to her arms, legs, and shoulders.

Unknowingly, Arturia's actions raised the overall level of trust Duke Berferd and the others had. Vincent didn't even have to be considered. His trust in Arturia was almost borderline fanatical.

Leading from the front, the entire group walked at a leisurely pace to accommodate for the elderly and young.

As time passed on, it became exceedingly clear to Duke Berferd that Shirou had not in fact been lying. If the enemy had still been pursuing, then there was no way they wouldn't have caught up by now since the opposition possessed cavalry.

Duke Berferd assessed Shirou quietly. Although it was true that he already had a vague outline of what to make of Arturia, Shirou was still a mystery.

From the way his son had spoken, Duke Berferd had assumed that Arturia was the leader, yet from the way she stared at Shirou with respect, it threw Duke Berferd into a loop. If Arturia was already a formidable individual, then what did that make Shirou who she regarded so highly?

Duke Berferd didn't know the answer and simply kept his questions to himself. Moreover, he was currently skeptical.

He had been to this particular area in the mountains many times during his seasonal hunts and he knew that the direction Shirou was leading them would lead nowhere. Was he perhaps taking them to shelter themselves in the narrow cave opening by the slopes of the mountain? No, it clearly wasn't the case otherwise the entire group should have turned east on the last natural cornerstone.

Where exactly was he going?

Duke Berferd couldn't figure anything out no matter how hard he wracked his brain for an answer. Even then, the sight that suddenly appeared before him after passing through the forest clearing still caught him flabbergasted. He was gawking and he knew it, but there was no way he could hide his sheer astonishment.

A-A castle wall?

Duke Berferd forcibly maintained what was left of his composure but the same could not be said for his son. After all, it hadn't been more than a couple of days since Vincent had left the vicinity of the forested mountains. It was inconceivable that he could have missed such a monumental structure.

"J-Just what is going on here?" Vincent murmured to himself, a hand pinching his leg and causing him to hiss in pain. "Nope. Not a dream."

Duke Berferd and Vincent weren't the only ones to be in shock. Everyone was.

The walls were of a pale ivory the likes of which no one in Roble had ever seen before. It carried a majesty and grace that seemed to belong on a whole other plain of existence. It was something sacred. Something Holy.

 _Father, I met the Holy Maiden, the Valkyrie of Roble._

His son's words played ceaselessly within his head, and just from the majesty of the castle he saw before him, Duke Berferd slowly found himself being convinced. He turned his attention towards Arturia who was still lagging in the back and just then realized that there was a type of aura exuding from her that was different from anyone he'd ever met. The same kind of feeling originated from Shirou.

His intuition was warning him.

It was the feeling of powerlessness against the face of behemoths.

What Duke Berferd was suddenly experiencing was the concept of Level Suppression.

In the same way an ant would tremble from the footsteps of an elephant, a being of a lower level would face the pressure of a being of a higher-level.

Sweat dripped down Duke Berferd's brow but no one realized it in their captivation. He took a breath to compose himself then lightly coaxed his legs to continue stepping forward without wobbling.

Still, for all his efforts, he'd underestimated the perception the Holy Maiden possessed.

"Are you alright?" Her voice spoke directly next to him, her hand holding onto his arm to support him.

Duke Berferd dared not impose on her. "I'm fine," he said respectfully.

Arturia gave Duke Berferd an odd look due to his sudden change in demeanor but thought nothing of it as the kids around her were quick to distract her.

"Quiet little ones," she admonished sharply, her head held up high. Perhaps because she'd been forced to look after them for so long, she'd been able to instill some form of discipline into them. With but three words, she had the children that had been clinging and running around her, obediently following her steps like ducklings. Her lips gradually curved upwards before she nodded in satisfaction. "Good, the first trial of any aspiring Knight is to listen and adhere to discipline before becoming a squire! Work hard all of you, now march!"

"Yes!" The children chorused one by one.

Duke Berferd noticed Shirou smiling dumbly from the interaction between Arturia and the children but he didn't comment on it as his fool of a son Vincent was just the same.

Duke Berferd shook his head, and didn't know what to think anymore. However, one thing he was certain of was that Shirou and the Holy Maiden were strong. Each of them possessing the strength he needed to save his people. To save his Kingdom.

Duke Berferd balled his hands into fists and swiftly followed after Shirou as he arrived at the front gate of the castle wall.

Two Knights were stationed on guard duty known as Enforcement Knights, lvl 50 mob characters that defended the Kingdom of Camelot during raids in YGGDRASIL. So long as Camelot stood standing, a set interval of a thousand of them were respawned every day. The number itself could be increased using a specific summoning skill possessed by the Knights of the Round and Shirou himself.

As soon as Shirou and the others drew close, the Enforcement Knights promptly saluted with their swords.

"Greeting to the Lord and Master," one of the Enforcement Knights spoke. "It'll only take a moment to open the doors. These are?"

The Enforcement Knight gestured to Duke Berferd and the escorted citizens.

"Guests," Arturia was quick to reply.

The Enforcement Knight merely nodded as it wasn't his place to continue questioning further. However, that didn't mean that he couldn't give a little warning to Duke Berferd and his Knights not to cause any trouble.

For their parts, Duke Berferd and the rest were already at a loss for words. Just staring at the Enforcement Knight was enough for them to realize the difference in capabilities. Duke Berferd was confident that it would take at least a party of six individuals to take down a single Enforcement Knight alone.

No matter how he thought about it, the only explanation he could think of for such a gap in strength was due to the Holy Maiden. It had always been a mystery in Roble about what had happened to its Valkyrie at the vanquishing of the Evil Gods, but it was all becoming clear in Duke Berferd's mind.

Roble's Valkyrie didn't disappear, no; she bided her time and fostered a true Order of Holy Knights for Roble!

Duke Berferd grew visibly agitated, and nearly lost his mind when the doors of Camelot were opened to reveal hundreds of Enforcement Knights patrolling through the streets found within.

Just the sight alone rivaled the grandness of Northern Roble's most populated city in which Calca Bessarez ruled over. It was a combination of gothic architecture and nature. Buildings of grand scales built alongside trees, shrubs, and bushes. Even the streets were clean and tidy, many lined with open markets where Knights were providing aid to the other refuges that Shirou and Arturia had recued earlier.

It was a sight that caused the other refuges from the Berferd Dutchy to rush forward in excitement. Neither Shirou or Arturia stopped them as this was their goal from the beginning. The only problem however was the time it took to coax the children following Arturia to join the other citizens of the Berferd Dutchy.

Thereafter, the only ones left standing near Shirou and Arturia, were the group of Knights taken in as Prisoners of War and Duke Berferd and his Knights who were still getting over their shock.

The matter with the Prisoners of War wasn't difficult to deal with as they obediently followed the instructions of an Enforcement Knight to set camp in Camelot's western interior. They weren't bad individuals, so Arturia requested the Enforcement Knights to give them a comfortable stay.

When only Duke Berferd and his Knights were left behind, Arturia was taken by surprise when Duke Berferd suddenly appeared in front of her with his head lowered.

"As a Duke of Roble, I herby request a formal meeting," He bowed using a Nobleman's common etiquette.

Understanding the significance of Duke Berferd's actions, Arturia nodded her head solemnly and acted as a King should. "I permit it, please follow me to the court so that I can formally hear you out."

Duke Berferd had no complaints with the arrangement, and Shirou was content to allow Arturia to act at her discretion.

Leading the way, Arturia soon led everyone to a grand hall.

A red carpet was rolled down from the center isle which led directly to a throne where Arturia sat in all her regality. Standing on either side of her in two neat rows were Lancelot, Gawain, and the other Knights whose combined presence prevented any of Duke Berferd's Knights from stepping forward due to a feeling of inadequacy.

"Father," Vincent whispered into Duke Berferd's ears as the two of them approached. "Those are the Knights I was talking about."

Indeed.

From their disposition to their appearance, there wasn't a doubt in Duke Berferd's mind that the Knights in front of him were at the pinnacle level of the profession. It was all the more reason that Duke Berferd was willing to follow through with his decision and cast aside his pride.

Arturia sat waiting for him to speak.

Shameless as it was and as it felt, Duke Berferd didn't hesitate.

"Please," Duke Berferd dropped to his knees. "Save my countrymen. Although you've given me and my people temporary shelter in your castle, with my absence, the snakes in the nobility have lost their common enemy. It won't be long before they start biting at each other's throats, and by then, thousands of innocent lives would be lost to needless violence!"

Duke Berferd pressed his forehead to the ground in a show of his sincerity.

"Venerated Holy Maiden, please unite Southern Roble under a single Banner!"

Silence.

Time itself seemed to have stopped as each Knight of the Round and even Arturia had flashbacks of a war-torn land. Duke Berferd didn't have to elaborate on anything, Arturia and the others themselves already knew the implications of his words.

Pillaging.

Massacres.

Civil unrest.

They as the protectors of a land named Britain had experienced it all before.

"My King…"

Agravain was the one to speak, his meaning clear.

The Camelot he had envisioned in the past had failed once.

He nodded towards Arturia even as he started calculating a course of action in his mind. In the name of a goal, an ambition, and a dream for a Kingdom of prosperity. This time,

 _It would not fail again._

* * *

- **Hours Earlier.**

The wind was cold, biting as it seemed to pierce through her skin and down to the marrow of her bones. Even then, Tyra knew that it wasn't the wind that was causing the chill to travel down her back.

She pulled the furred mantle around her shoulders closer to her body as she spurred her horse into a heated gallop.

Faster.

She had to run faster.

The grass swayed under foot, trampled beneath panicked hooves and rushed movements.

Her heart beat furiously within her chest in fear. She could feel the way her head throbbed as her blood rushed through her body, but she didn't care.

There was a pressure surrounding her that made it feel as if she was suffocating. Her eyes were bloodshot, her ears ringing with the screams of the others around her.

Death.

Death was coming.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as she shuddered.

 _A howl carrying in the air._

They were being hunted, one by one like animals to a slaughter. Worse, the casualties were targeted, the rest of the army long since broken into disarray and forced into retreat.

The very bulk of the chasing army Tyra had once led with her fellow officers had been reduced to just her and a few others that she could count with her fingers.

She didn't want to die.

Fuck the bastard who said this was going to be an easy mission!

Tyra ranted in her head, but the silence around her alerted her to a chilling fact.

Her eyes darted left and right, yet found that she was alone, none running by her side panting and out of breath. Panic welled up from within her. "Conrad! Milchester! Damn it all you bastards answer me!" She yelled nearly in hysterics.

No reply.

She didn't dare turn around.

She was alone.

Utterly alone.

The last one.

What if the Demon was already on her back?

Her muscles were cramping as terror and agitation nearly drove her to insanity as she began to overdraw on her available mana.

" **Lesser Detection!** "

Nothing.

" **Lesser Detection!** "

" **Lesser Detection!** "

" **Lesser Detection!** "

" **Lesser Detection!** "

" **Lesser Detection!** "

F-Found it!

She spurred her horse in an attempt to make it gallop a different direction from her pursuer, but to no avail.

A sudden feeling of weightlessness caused her to topple over and tumble over the ground. Bruises formed on her arms and legs yet she could hardly care when she noticed the barbed spear pierced through her horse's neck.

Her eyes dilated as her horse gurgled, arcs of blood showering over her as a pair of red eyes appeared in her view.

D-Demon.

She took off running without hesitation, anything to get a chance at living.

" **Lesser Detection!** "

" **Lesser Detection!** "

" **Lesser Detection!** "

She continued to chant, each use of her magic exhausting her in her attempt to flee, but no matter how hard she tried, it was to her shock that with each use of Lesser Detection, a red shadow arrived closer and closer to her.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she staggered forward.

Like a hound running through the plains in chase of a rabbit.

No, faster! She had to move faster.

Her feet trampled the earth beneath her in heavy steps that left distinct foot-prints in the mud, but she could no longer be bothered to think about covering her tracks in her hysteria. In which case, there really was no getting away.

Appearing in the position where Tyra had just been mere moments ago, a man holding a barbed red spear clicked his tongue when he noticed the foot prints in the mud. "Amateur," Cu muttered in disinterest before disappearing.

Tyra for her part was running out of energy and fast.

She could hardly move her legs, and worse still, she could no longer cast Lesser Detection. With no idea where the Demon could strike her from, the trees and shadows around her appeared to her like gates to the Underworld.

She swallowed, her composure all but gone as she considered her options.

-Footsteps.

She sucked in a breath.

This feeling, like being stared at by a predator.

It was right behind her.

"W-Wait don't kill me!" She yelled out before anything else, her hands waving around. "I-I can be of use to you."

Tyra's throat suddenly dried. In front of her was a spear's tip that was placed directly under her neck. She didn't dare move. The only thing she could do was stare helplessly at the Demon that appeared before her.

Now that the Demon had stopped chasing, Tyra got to look at her assailant for the first time since the hunt began.

The Demon was tall, with blue hair and long cylindrical silver earrings. Wearing a form-fitting blue jump suit and steel shoulder pads, Tyra didn't have the heart to insult her assailant's fashion sense.

On the other hand, Cu was actually considering his options.

"Hmm, an interesting proposition, but," Cu's eyes narrowed into red slits. "I don't like snakes and backstabbers."

Tyra felt the spear at her neck press forward and hurried to explain herself before she could be instantly killed.

"T-Then what if I wasn't on their side from the beginning?" She spoke determinedly.

"Infiltration then?" Cu gradually pulled back his spear before frowning.

Infiltrators were nothing more than spies which was probably worse than common backstabbers. After all, the very same friend who would be smiling at you at one moment could be simultaneously plotting your end in the same instance.

Recollections of a Fake Priest entered Cu's mind and his expression soon became frigid with the surfacing of the name of a woman he was certain he did not know.

 _Bazett._

His teeth gritted together, his jaw clenched tightly in agitation even as the impulse to stab forward nearly overwhelmed him.

Inadvertently, the pressure he exuded intensified ten-fold, the air coming to a still as magical power erupted from around him.

Tyra shivered, her complexion paling as the world seemed to dim, converging upon the crimson spear pointed at her chest.

It seeks the heart.

A barbed spear made from the wood of a yew branch.

Weapon of the Witch of Dun Scaith.

The number of warriors, soldiers, and people it killed were innumerable.

The sheer bloodlust that exuded from the spear made Tyra keenly aware of a single fact. It was cursed. A lump formed in her throat.

Cursed weapons were on a tier of their own. It didn't matter what level of skill she had either in martial arts, magic, or augmented apparel, curses bypassed all depending on the intensity of the curse. The higher the level, the more certain that the curse would be afflicted.

Just from the sheer aura she could feel from the spear alone, there was no doubt in her mind of the level of curse running through the red spear's shaft.

She swallowed, glancing despondently down at her armour. It was enchanted with lesser magic which gave her + 2 resistance to elemental attack and + 4 defence against piercing damage.

And yet, she had absolutely no confidence that her armour could even hope to delay the attack of the red spear.

She'd heard stories before that those who'd died of a curse would not know peace in death. The thought terrified her enough to clasp her hands together in prayer, hoping that her faith could pull her away from whatever curse was bound to assail her in her near future.

 _God have mercy on this soul!_

She closed her eyes and prayed with all her might, her body tensing as she imagined the spear stabbing through her heart.

And yet, nothing came.

There was no pain, nor anguish, only the stillness of the air and the noise of rustling grass.

Maybe she was already dead?

She couldn't see anything. She didn't want to. The moment she opened her eyes, she feared that she would see a hell far worse than any hardship she'd ever undergone.

"Oi oi, the hell are you doing?"

It was the voice of that Demon!

Did he perhaps follow her into a cursed realm?

The voice jolted her enough to open her eyes in surprise, and when she did, it was to see an outstretched hand in front of her, an expression of reluctance on the Demon's face.

"Well, what are you waiting for?" The Demon spoke impatiently, red irises narrowed into slits. "You said you'd make yourself useful."

Tyra's mind momentarily blanched before she subconsciously placed her hand over the Demon's without realizing it. Thereafter, her consciousnesses caught up with her, unable to process just what kind of a deal she had just struck with a Devil.

"The name's Cu," Cu smiled indifferently. Personal feelings aside, work was work, and he wasn't exactly in a rush to return to his teacher's side. "Now you lead, and I'll follow. Oh, and you better not try anything. This spear doesn't have to be facing you to kill you."

Tyra felt the blood rush down from her head in terror at the clear warning.

"R-Right," she stuttered, pulling herself up using Cu's hand as a support.

Cu simply snorted, ignoring the way Tyra whispered 'monster' under her breath. It wasn't his fault that the enemy was incapable anyway. If Cu had it his way to begin with, then he'd probably do much more than simply warding away.

For the time being, his targets were the captains and generals of the opposing army, and for that he would use Tyra to direct and point. For if she was a spy or infiltrator like she implied, then she wasn't exactly a direct enemy.

And an enemy of an enemy, was a friend.

* * *

In another part of Southern Roble, two figures were stealthily making their way out of a dense thicket near the wall that separated the tribes of Demi-Humans and the citizens of the Holy Kingdom. Not only was it one of the most obscure locations, it was the best point of entry to enter Southern Roble without detection due to the irrational fear people had of the walls spontaneously breaking.

Then again, it hadn't been very long since the past incident with a certain species of Demi-Humans that breached the integrity of the walls and started a massacre of the local citizens.

Fear and anxiety were still running rampant, making it the best opportunity to take advantage of the situation. The fact that the two possessed skills in the Ranger class made it even easier for them to navigate the area without difficulty.

As the two individuals exited the vicinity of the thicket and out into the open territory of Southern Roble, their identities became readily apparent from the emblem they wore on their cloaked figures.

They were people of Northern Roble sent by Calca Bessarez to scout the events of the South.

Pavel Baraja, and another individual from the fallen Hawthorne Family of Nobility.

What they would discover in the south was something far more than a dispute between Nobles.

It was the beginning of a tale between Roble, a Valkyrie, and a Holy Sword.

Not the _Fake_ Holy Sword possessed by Remedios Custodios, but the one blessed by Holy Light.

A pinnacle weapon adored by Paladins and Holy Knights alike.

For it was the Sword of Promised Victory.

The Sword of the People.

And of the rightful leader of the Holy Kingdom.

* * *

 **Thanks for Reading!**

 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


	13. Holy City Camelot: Part 10

Open fields, swaying grass, tranquil wind, everything seemed peaceful on the surface, yet the brewing undercurrents were reaching an all time high in Southern Roble.

There was a palpable tension in the air, none feeling its effects more than the farmers and local peasants whose livelihoods depended on the whims of their Lords and Ladies.

Already Shirou could see it just off in the distance, the signs of civil war and violence that took away lives like they were simple stocks of wheat. Empty villages, torn fences, greyed ash and cinders, no matter where he looked, he could see traces of them.

After Duke Berferd's escape, the situation only grew more dire for the peasants as more and more villages were ransacked and burned to the ground in an attempt to lure the Duke out of hiding.

It very nearly worked when Duke Berferd discovered what was happening, but before the man could even act, Shirou had already began taking actions.

Shifting his gaze to the crowd of people following him, he gestured for them to head on forward.

The people were all commoners, wearing torn clothing and whatever they could carry to ease their livelihoods.

This group of people weren't the first group Shirou had aided. They were one of many others.

Due to the actions of Duke Berferd's political enemies, a mass migration of farmers and peasants began. Rather than staying within their villages waiting for death to come, many local inhabitants took their belongings and fled.

Numerous migratory convoys were subsequently formed and Shirou had been encountering many of them while keeping a look out for any attackers.

'Head West.' He began informing all of them.

It was a message that soon spread throughout the entirety of Southern Roble's common populace through word of mouth. As most nobility didn't pay attention to the lower-class, word even spread to the farmers and peasant living on the lands of the attacking Nobles themselves about a true Holy Land in the West.

Of course, the concept of a Holy Land was more of an exaggeration.

Shirou had only informed some of the conveys that it would be safe in the West, but the message grew skewed after innumerable repetition.

At the present instance, the rumours among the lower class had inflated to such a point that the West became the only safe haven in the brewing civil strife in Southern Roble. All peasants of the south, either those directly involved or those that weren't, were in the midst of heated debates to decide on whether or not to migrate on rumours alone.

Shirou for his part, could only smile wryly at how the situation progressed, but he did nothing to stop the spread of information. Camelot was in the West, and no words were needed for anyone to understand Camelot's appeal upon being sighted.

The peasants and farmers would be protected there.

It was a certainty.

However, the dangerous aspect for the commoners was arriving to the West safely.

Duke Berferd's enemies had created an alliance both to suppress Duke Berferd and to usurp political dominance over Southern Roble. The alliance was amply named the Southern Alliance, and many changes had already occurred throughout the land since its establishment.

By speculation alone, the alliance was said to contain a vast majority of powerful established and landed Nobles. Any other Nobles and aristocracy that refused to bend to the Alliance's will was suppressed.

The only true competition the Southern Alliance had was in Duke Berferd who was the unofficial head of the neutral party. He was a charismatic figure for the smaller and peace-loving Nobility to rally under due to his accomplishments in the last Demi-Human invasion.

As such, it became all the more important for the members of the Southern Alliance to verify Duke Berferd's current condition and kill the man at all costs. No member of the Southern Alliance wished to see another power rise to oppose it.

The cruel order to exterminate the commoners, the life blood in Duke Berferd's lands, had then been approved.

The results of such an order were evident.

Shirou looked at the faces of the people around him, gaunt, terrified, trembling, many were even forgoing their injuries to rush to the west as quickly as possible.

The sight made him clench his hands into a fist.

 _How many innocent lives was it worth to fulfill one's greed and ambition?_

 _Lower class, Middle class, Upper class, everyone was still human._

 _This wasn't justice. This wasn't righteousness._

 _This was slaughter._

His expression grew more and more neutral. He'd seen it time and time again in his profession, both in life and in YGGDRASIL. He'd grown cold to it, yet he'd never once stopped chasing his ideal. The only difference was that over the course of his life, his mentality had altered from saving everyone, to saving all that he could while in pursuit of a distant utopia where Saber was waiting.

The actions of the Southern Alliance, were they not able to see it?

The strife they were creating?

The fear they were propagating?

In times of hardship and despair, they'd be known as tyrants, enemies of the masses.

And yet in that despair- _In that bleak reality._

That was when Heroes rise.

Knights and mercenaries were mobilized by the Southern Alliance, but thankfully Cu was thoroughly making a mess of the enemy's armies.

Initially, Shirou had only given Cu the task to stall the enemy commander's pursuit but Cu had his own plans which Shirou verified and approved of after some consideration.

Cu had become something of a boogeyman man to the Southern Alliance.

His continued interference preventing the Southern Alliance from impeding the mass migration of the commoners.

Cu's actions aside however, small units of the enemy noble's Knights patrolled key areas in Southern Roble that the peasants would need to pass through on their way to the west.

Weaponless and inexperienced, there was no way the farmers and peasants could deal with a unit of Knights. That's where Shirou came in.

He dealt with the units of Knights without much trouble, earning the gratitude of the common people.

To many of the locals of Southern Roble, Shirou was a familiar face, especially in regards to those initially rescued by him.

His appearance was one that brought a certain sense of comfort and a level of trustworthiness that allowed him to advise the migrating convoys to continue west.

Alternatively, his system logs were continuously notifying him of changes before finally reaching the first threshold.

[Reputation + 1]

[Reputation + 1]

[Local Hero Achieved.]

[Increased favourability from the citizens of Southern Roble Holy Kingdom.]

[Hero Class lvl 1 Achieved.]

[Unlock Class Skill: Heroic Image.]

[Heroic Image: A Hero's figure used to inspire the masses in times of hardship. Allies within sight obtain increased base stat points and resistances by + 1.]

[Unlock Class Skill: Selfless Heart.]

[Selfless Heart: A Hero's resolve to sacrifice. User takes upon the damage of another. Can only be used once per day.]

In YGGDRASIL, Shirou had never really taken the game as seriously as others. It showed in his classless level and lack of initiative to complete quests and earn rewards, granted, he didn't really have much of a need for them anyway. What he wanted, he could access by altering his virtual avatar or modifying the world around him. Certain aesthetic features and magics were limited to different types of professions; therefore, he tweaked his settings multiple times throughout YGGDRASIL's lifespan.

As such, his YGGDRASIL skill-base varied considerably between mundane magics and techniques, to large scale AOE's and single-target damage.

As for the hidden [Hero Class] he had qualified for, he'd never put much thought into it as it brought no practical or aesthetic benefit for his NPCs in YGGDRASIL. It was only now that it was starting to level.

He took a moment to browse through the unlocked skills, before noting them down for later use and continuing his current endeavor.

With how tense the situation was, for the common people, he was beginning to wonder about the problems the Southern Alliance was probably facing.

Jumping atop a hill and surveying the number of convoys he could see in the distance, he was quickly realizing that it was no longer possible to extricate himself or his NPCs from the current circumstances.

That being the case, he wasn't as naïve as he used to be.

If the Southern Alliance was intent on going down the path of bloodshed, then the obstacle they would face in the West would surely be their downfall.

Expression hardening, he let out a sigh as he turned his head towards the direction of a large Southern Army camp in the distance.

Even from where he stood, he could feel it.

The terror rising in that region.

An insurmountable hound hunting in the open plains.

He let out a weary sigh, hoping for the conflict to just end before it was too late.

Yet the chances were far from optimistic.

His eyes narrowed at the commander's tent of the Southern Army.

 _Now then, what will you do?_

* * *

"FUCK!" A woman smashed her fist over a wooden table and shattered it into splinters, the pieces arching in the air and striking harmlessly onto the other two men in the room.

One of the men, short, yet sturdy grimaced as the splinters caught almost entirely onto his shoulder-length hair. "That was my table, Duchess Merdings. It did not deserve this fate," the man grumbled.

The woman glanced sharply up at the man who spoke, and the man almost immediately sighed before turning his head away.

The shorter man was known as Eric Vandele, and the other man beside him was known as Nathan Hubert.

The woman was named Anya Merdings.

All of them were high ranking aristocracy that dominated Southern Roble's politics. Anya Merdings herself was fully capable of running her late husband's duchy singlehandedly after years of hard work to foster recognition amongst her husband's subjects. Often times, she had been cruel when she needed to be.

The stress was getting to her.

The three individuals together formed the head of the Southern Alliance. The other lower ranked nobles either capitulating to their rule or were wiped out by the Alliance's combined army. There was no room for a neutral faction as the Southern Alliance was formed out of necessity to combat the growing pressure of the North.

The current problem that needed to be dealt with immediately was Duke Berferd, but despite the meticulous planning of the three, something _still_ went wrong.

"Damn it, who the hell is this spearman in blue?!" Anya could no longer contain her growing frustration. On top of losing contact with her beloved son, a third party was openly meddling with Roble's affairs.

To make matters worse, Anya, Eric, and Nathan had no idea about the true capabilities of the blue spearman. On one hand, the blue spearman was just too agile to pinpoint before it was too late, and on the other, was there anyone strong enough to stop him?

Anya and Eric were confident in their battle strength and had no problems believing that the blue spearman was a coward unwilling to face them out in the open, but Nathan was different.

What sort of ability was needed to directly bypass thousands of Knights to reach the unit leader's tent, kill the unit leader, and then disappear as if he were never there?

The other rumours of the spearman singlehandedly wiping out a unit of a thousand men were also taken into Nathan's considerations.

He shuddered. He was a shrewd individual, formulating his thoughts and decisions before voicing out anything definite. Unfortunately, he suffered from a physical condition that caused him to constantly fidget under stress, so he was looked down upon by Anya and Eric. Even if he tried to raise a valid point, would they even listen?

Nathan inwardly lamented, but rather than the blue spearman, he was much more concerned about another matter. "My Elanor hasn't returned yet, and neither have the other two," he spoke up, the other two scrutinizing him.

Nathan cursed as he began to fidget under their stares, but when it came to his family, he could be unnaturally stubborn. "Think about it, it's been over a week already!" He straightened his back, the plate-armour he wore over his chest clanking with his movement. "Elanor would have sent me a letter if something was wrong, yet I haven't received even a single one."

Eric frowned at Nathan's words as it resonated with him. His own child was missing. As a father, how could he not worry?

However, Anya maintained her stance on the matter.

" _They are fine_ ," she insisted as she pursed her lips. "My son is leading them, and Dillan is exceptional. Even if they run into trouble with the Berferd heir, at the very least Dillan would decide to hide out with the others till whatever danger they're facing passes."

Noticing how obstinate Anya was on the matter, Nathan cursed at her in his mind. His hair was cropped to one side, giving him a clean and calm demeanor, but in truth, he was furious.

Yet as much as he wanted to release his anger, doing so would serve no purpose. Fine, if they wouldn't listen to him, then he'd make them.

"Have you both heard?" He inquired lowly, staring at Anya and Eric in the eyes. "The low-borns are heading West in large quantities. They all say that a 'true' Holy Kingdom exists there."

Anya scoffed. After taking a moment to compose herself from her earlier outburst, she was once again displaying the patience and cunning worthy of the duchess of the Merding's family. "And you believe such a thing? Nathan Hubert, I didn't take you to be a fool."

Although Eric kept silent, it was evident about what he thought on the matter due to his expression of disinterest.

Seeing both Anya and Eric's reaction's, Nathan didn't bother explaining himself with his words alone. From the pouch hanging at his waist, he pulled out a parchment of papers denoting the military positions assigned to the Alliance Knights. Casualties were marked in red-berry ink and the general distribution of strategic resources were marked on a legend on the bottom corner of the first page.

"Military deployments?" Eric perked up immediately. The Vandele family were the most proficient in logistics and war-related activities. Looking at the papers Nathan had provided was enough to jolt Eric into seriousness. "T-That can't be possible," he stuttered in a low tone.

Pushing passed Anya, Eric grabbed the parchments in Nathan's hands and began to meticulously scrutinize them before stiffening.

"Eric, is there a problem with the reports?" Anya furrowed her brows, the edges of her lips curving downwards as she crossed her arms beneath her bosom.

Eric remained silent, ignoring Anya completely while he laid out the reports on by one over the ground due to a lack of a table. He stared at Anya and glared for a moment before reeling in his frustration.

The current matter was the one that needed his attention the most.

By the time Eric completed his actions, the complexion of his skin fell while his eyes dilated. "O Holy Gods above, this can't be real."

Nathan who already knew what Eric was talking about kept silent, but Anya briskly stepped forward to survey what Eric had laid out for all to see. As the Duchess of the Merdings family, she wasn't without education on warfare.

Naturally, when she took note of the way Eric arranged the parchments, the meaning of Nathan's actions was clear. "T-That's not possible," she stuttered out.

The parchments distributed evenly across the ground depicted an eerie premonition. The contrasting colours of red and black formed a growing spear head that originated from a single direction.

"The blue spearman, the one that our Alliance army is calling a devil, began his head hunting here," Nathan pointed at a portion of the parchments. A zone so heavily filled with red-ink that the liquid bled through the page. "Since then his attacks have been spreading, becoming more accurate and targeted, yet that's not what matters. Look here, from where does it appear that this spearman originates from?"

The West.

The answer was clear as day as depicted by the red-berry markings.

The entire room fell silent.

Nathan pressed his points.

"A spearman of an immeasurable level originated from the west."

There was no way such a skilled spearman could just suddenly appear from out of nowhere. Even for Nathan and the others, it would take a considerable amount of time and resources to nurture such a monster. As such, there was validity to the next point.

Affiliation.

Nathan swallowed, doing his best to stop his body from fidgeting yet failing due to his physical condition.

"A rumoured Holy Kingdom is said to _exist_ in the west."

"We," he stared hard at both Eric and Anya, his hands trembling. "All of us, sent our children to the West. Are true enemy may not just be Duke Berferd, but whatever entity has taken root in the West."

Nathan ended his point in the deathly quiet of the commander's tent.

It didn't take long for Anya to scrunch up her face, the first indications of worry taking root within her as she contemplated her son's safety. "Mobilize the army," she didn't notice it, but she was trembling. The only family she had left after her husband's death was her son. "I don't care if you two follow me with your forces or not, I'm getting my son back."

Anya clenched her jaw and directly left the tent, the sound of the Merdings family Knights and mercenaries mounting their horses quickly began to echo with the roar of thunder.

Eric followed soon after, an unreadable expression on his face.

Nathan Hubert was the only one left behind. His gaze was pensive, his shoulders hunched over as he gradually pulled out a hidden letter on his person.

The contents were of a specific kind, a logo of an eight-fingered palm printed overtop.

Blackmail.

He was truthfully of a neutral faction, loyal to Roble as a whole but outside influences had forced his hand and instigated the current Southern Alliance.

Nathan sighed just thinking about his Kingdom's circumstances, yet at the moment, even if he was being used or not, he didn't care.

He trembled in fear and agitation, but there was a steadiness in him common to all fathers as he left the commander's tent and mobilized his faction's Knights.

A strength of heart.

His daughter was waiting for him.

* * *

 **-Western Roble's Mountainside, Camelot.**

Shirou returned without any complications after completing his task.

Already, the surge of new migrants had forced Arturia to order the chopping down of the trees nearby to build houses and accommodate the growing population. However, more and more migrants appeared day by day, increasing labour costs.

Fortunately, Camelot's Enforcer Knights weren't quick to tire in the least. Their constant patrols and presence gave the new migrants a sense of peace and security.

Many could not believe that a Kingdom actually existed deep within Roble's western forest. Moreover, the walls and buildings of Camelot released a passive soothing aura which farmers and peasants mistook for the aura of the divine.

Many began praying fervently at the walls, more so when Vincent Berferd began subtly divulging the 'true' identity of the ruler of Camelot to the masses.

Roble's Holy Maiden.

The revelation shocked the new migrants to such a degree that they began prostrating in the direction of the castle at the center of Camelot.

Arturia and the others were none-the-wiser in regards to the rumours spreading throughout Camelot as they were too busy dealing with management issues.

Presently, Agravain stood in Arturia's audience within Camelot's main hall describing to her the new regulations he had devised to organize the influx of migrants.

Gawain and the others had quietly slipped out when they had noticed that they weren't needed and busied themselves with other matters.

As such, only Arturia and Agravain were in the reception hall when Shirou arrived.

Upon his arrival, Agravain gave a curt nod while Arturia sat up in her throne, her back straightening while a hand unconsciously went up to smooth out her hair.

He walked closer towards the two, and before Arturia could speak, Agravain was quick to voice out his concerns.

"Is there a need for you to personally act?" Agravain asked with good intentions. "We have many better suited to do such things."

Hearing Agravain's words, it wasn't as if he couldn't understand where Agravain was coming from. As the creator of Agravain and the other NPCs, all of his NPCs generally held a high-opinion of him. Seeing their creator doing such mundane tasks didn't sit right with many of them let alone Agravain whose blunt manner of speaking struck straight to the point.

As Arturia didn't admonish Agravain's words, she too was evidently of the same opinion.

He smiled wryly.

"You're missing the point Agravain, It's not about who can or can't do it, it's about whether one's presence can bring a sense of comfort or not," Shirou explained to the best of his ability. He was never much of a fluent speaker and as such, he just spoke his mind. "To provide a shelter for those in need and to alternatively create a world worth living in there are things that even I must do without question. Besides there is meaning to be found in personal actions."

Agravain, took a moment to consider Shirou's explanation before his eyes brightened.

"S-Such foresight. To think that you can see so far ahead my Lord. It truly astounds me." Judging from Agravain's expression, it was clear to Shirou that Agravain had concluded something far more complex than what Shirou actually thought up in mind. "Was this also part of the reason why you deployed the Faceless King into the forest?"

The Faceless King was another NPC Shirou had made that acted as a sub-boss in the forested zone of Midgard leading to the Land of Shadows. The main reason was not due to his proficiency in forested regions, but because of the Faceless King's Druid subclass which further heightened his scouting ability.

If any danger approached Camelot, the Faceless King could react far faster than Tristan or other NPCs of the Archer Class in the Grand Mausoleum. Besides, the character and morals of the Faceless King was without doubt.

Still, Shirou's current predicament was that he did not know what Agravain was hinting at. Agravain was smart. Far smarter than him as his NPC character was modeled after his real-life equivalent seen through the history of swords Shirou had encountered in his life-time. There was simply no way that Shirou possessed a similar level of intellect, yet he didn't want to ruin the expectation clearly depicted in Agravain's eyes.

On a side note, it would be a nightmare if he ever had to interact with Holmes.

He scratched his head, inwardly feeling awkward. "To think that you caught on, impressive." Shirou made sure to keep the neutrality of his face while giving out his praise.

Agravain grinned in triumph, not noticing Arturia stiffen behind him in agitation.

She couldn't do it, she realized.

She couldn't follow what Shirou and Agravain were talking about.

Her discomfort was difficult to mask as a strong desire to be the one that knew Shirou best assaulted her. In turn, the expression she subconsciously directed at Agravain contained hints of jealousy, envy, and pettiness, yet it was hard to tell due to her poker face.

She didn't even notice it when Shirou excused himself from out of the main hall while heading in the direction of the Great Mausoleum. Instead, her eyes were glued to Agravain who was standing silently in thought.

Agravain was mulling over his thoughts when he suddenly felt a particularly piercing gaze glued to his back.

He turned around, and the first thing he noticed was a somewhat unreadable expression.

"Agravain, my loyal Knight," Arturia cleared her throat, trying to mask her interest. "Given our in-depth understanding of Shirou, I-I think it's best that we work together and pool in our knowledge for an optimal result."

Agravain raised a brow, a flush of embarrassment making its way up Arturia's cheeks in the silence which she forced down with sheer willpower. "Speak first, I will hear you out and judge the value of your words."

Agravain chose not to criticize about how the conversation went from a collaboration to a one-sided trial. After all, how could he not understand his King after numerous years of working together in the defence of Britain? He already knew what the King was referring to.

The King would never comprehend the underlying meanings of certain actions as well as he could.

To begin with, it wasn't the King's duty to think of such things. Agravain closed his eyes. It was his alone to shoulder. He who didn't care of what others thought of him. In the rule of Britain, if the King was the light that led the people to salvation against the Saxons, then Agravain was the necessary shadow that dealt with the difficulties and harsh realities that the King could not.

After all, he was inherently intelligent and forced into labour by a woman he'd rather forget.

Agravain opened his eyes and began to speak. "The Lord's actions are truly wise," he began. "The message he was trying to convey within his words was relatively simple to pick up."

"O-Of course," Arturia's expression remained the same, but the break in her voice displayed her true colours. "Just to clarify, but I'd like you to reveal the message you discovered in his words so that I can compare it to the one I discovered."

Agravain stared, but Arturia was unnaturally adamant.

"Rule not with the goal of practicality alone, but with the hearts and loyalty of the masses." Agravain seemed to think of the past as he spoke, at the result of his own mistakes in life. "The Lord was subtly reminding me that I shouldn't lose out on the bigger picture. The new migrants need comfort. They need hope. By personally coming to their aid, the Lord is fostering a hope for the new migrants."

"I-I see," Arturia considered the new information in her mind while nodding absently.

Agravain simple continued. "If you understand the Faceless King's history, it's simple to determine that he's the easiest to approach for the influx of farmers and peasants into the Kingdom. Once again, the Lord is demonstrating his intellect in human understanding."

Arturia just continued to nod her head, while Agravain soon fell silent.

"More importantly, by giving us this message, what does he intend for us to do?"

Arturia stiffened. Having no idea, she stared hard at Agravain.

Only Agravain who was not adverse to taking advantage of others for the Kingdom's benefit could come to a single conclusion. Agravain whole-heartedly believed that Shirou's words weren't for the King to understand, but for him alone. It was a test of some sort that Agravain would not fail.

Considering Roble's political situation that he had learned in passing from Duke Berferd, Camelot's sudden appearance would be akin to a third-party interfering. In which case, in the worst-case scenario, South and North Roble could form an alliance to eliminate Camelot.

Was that it?

Was that what it was?

Agravain wasn't too concerned with Camelot's actual defeat as he believed in the strength of his King and fellow Knights of the Round. However, what if this was the test?

To find an ending where excessive bloodshed was not necessary?

The more Agravain considered the prospect, the more convinced he was.

If Camelot couldn't involve itself as a third-party, then what about if it were to suddenly become part of the founding Kingdom? In which case, there would be no conflict, perhaps the split halves of Roble could even once again unite.

He pondered over the thought before swiftly coming to a decision. He'd use the impressions of the citizens of southern Roble to his advantage. Contrary to belief, Agravain was the only Knight of the Round Table to pay close attention to the rumours spreading throughout Camelot.

A cold smile was steadily working its way up his face.

His current task was directly in line with his proficiencies.

Now, all that was left was to explain everything to the King.

"The Holy Order of Roble? Roble's Valkyrie?" Arturia leaned back into her throne in a daze before her expression hardened. "You wish us to impersonate something that we are not?"

Agravain nodded his head. Despite his King's reluctance, he was certain that she'd understand in the long run. "As I'm sure that you're well aware your Majesty, but we are not in our original World. Camelot can be said to originate from anywhere at this point, and is it truly a coincidence that we would appear in Roble at this time of civil war? We will save this Kingdom in memory of the one that we failed to protect before with the last amount of casualties as the Lord intended. Camelot will prosper once more."

Agravain stepped forward and took a knee before Arturia. "We are the Holy Kingdom Camelot, and you my King would be known as the Valkyrie of Roble that had disappeared at the fall of the Evil Gods of this New World."

Arturia remained silent at Agravain's words, as it wasn't in her character to deceive others. Yet there was no doubt that she trusted and confided heavily with Agravain. Her silence was a sign as it wasn't a flat-out refusal.

She was clearly being swayed.

How could Agravain not notice this?

All that was left was a tiny push.

He cleared his throat while simultaneously beckoning someone into the reception hall.

"It's either you, or her," Agravain pinched the bridge of his nose, tilting his head towards Nero who just walked in.

Nero was the spitting image of Arturia. However, she was in such revealing clothing that Arturia wished for nothing more than to lock Nero away to avoid any relation between them.

"Greetings my less endowed descendant."

Arturia's expression stiffened before becoming frigid.

Agravain knew he had succeeded.

It was only a matter of time now.

* * *

 **Author's note: Sorry for the late update. It's a bit shorter than usual since I caught a fever yesterday and was working with half of my mind functioning. Hopefully this update wasn't too boring as a result, but it paves the way for the arc ending coming up in a few chapters.**

 **Thanks for Reading!**

 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


	14. Holy City Camelot: Part 11

Camelot was thriving. Day by day, more and more residents escaping from the violence of the brewing civil war between aristocratic families in Southern Roble pooled in droves. Gawain stood by the gate at all times, his light and charisma, a beacon that served to quell the unease and tension present in the air.

That was who he was as the Knight of the Sun, loved by all. In contrast, Arturia ruled justly, sitting upon the throne and relaying instructions to the various Knights patrolling within the Kingdom to maintain public order after reports of thieves and vandals came to her knowledge. Many of them had come disguised as refuges; the stories of a Holy Kingdom sprouting from the distant mountains filled with riches and luxuries, too hard to pass up when it was the talk of the entire southern country amongst the commoners.

Wandering mercenary bands, brigands, and bandits grew curious, leading to an inflow of crime that was mediated and over-seen by Agravain who was well accustomed to the darker-sides of society. For many thieves and criminals, he could tell at a glance whether their circumstances were forced or premediated. It was something he found in their expressions when questioned; those quick to plead for mercy often giving themselves away due to the intensity of his glower.

No matter, Agravain was proficient in the use of lies and deceit. Those that were quick to plead often had things to conceal that he could differentiate between a guilty conscience and a panicking convict. The only forced individuals were those whose eyes remained steadfast in direct confrontation with his own. They who had nothing else to lose and would not be missed in their passing. He gave those people a chance, allowing them to apply into the Knight's Hall which the King had set up to foster a unit of Knights other than the imposing Enforcement Knights that patrolled the streets.

Not only were the Enforcements Knights intimidating, but the grandeur and nobility exuding from them and their pristine armours made the common peasant unable to raise their head. It didn't help that the standard lvl38-lvl40 Enforcement Knights were the equivalent to what the common folks considered Platinum-Rank Adventurers all patrolling the streets in droves.

It was Arturia's intention to pull back her Enforcement Knights as soon as the Knight's Hall was established to allow the people that had taken residence within Camelot a piece of mind in their daily lives.

Of course, as the King, she was caught up in several important matters to attend to such as infrastructure, residential positioning, and procuring a stable source of food. Camelot could not solely rely on Tawara's rice forever. Moreover, the matters of her day and the next few days were far from over.

Minor Nobles that had fled their lands when their armies were outnumbered and overtaken had arrived at Camelot's doorstep seeking asylum. In her role as King, it was her obligation to hear them out and extend an invitation of goodwill. Most of the Minor Nobles had good characters, and had only left their lands when all other options had run out, but that didn't mean that all of them were like that.

Some just came because they saw an opportunity in Camelot and wished to gain a high-standing before anyone else.

The constant bickering was grating on her ears.

She was not amused.

Most of the problems were miscellaneous, and she had Duke Berferd settle the majority of it as he was a familiar figure among the Nobles, but she still had to oversee everything as was her duty.

As a King, Arturia had to play host, leaving her inwardly dissatisfied as a vague paranoia concerning the lack of Nero's presence anywhere assailed her mind. On one hand, she felt like throttling Nero if she _dared_ strut down Camelot's streets in her image, and on the other, she felt uncomfortable thinking that Nero may be with Shirou at the moment. Considering that Nero had said that she was looking to discuss something with Shirou, it was a high possibility that she was around him right now.

The thought caused Arturia's lips to thin subconsciously into a venomous scowl, silencing the aristocrats who were trying to bring up the topic of landed Nobles within Camelot.

The intensity of her gaze caused the rest of the meeting to accelerate, and in less than an hour, she was striding out of the doors of her audience hall with hurried steps; Nero and how she might be seducing Shirou the only thought in her mind as her imagination ran wild.

Contrary to Arturia's expectation, it was not Nero who reached Shirou first, but the stalwart Agravain.

Currently, Agravain was seated in front of Shirou in one of the side-rooms located within the castle at the center of the Kingdom. The both of them were staring out at the open view of the residential area where the asylum seekers had set up a lively trading market. Most of the belongings of the Asylum seekers had been lost in their escape, so the current market didn't use much in the way of currency as a medium of exchange. Instead, they used a traditional bartering system where one side offered what they had to the other in hopes of reaching a suitable agreement.

"It's peaceful," Shirou commented lightly, watching the way the people he had seen in the pits of despair days earlier began to smile again.

Agravain grunted, crossing his arms and inclining his head. "It will stay that way too. A stable Kingdom is derived from the happiness of its citizens. That's why it must be protected."

Agravain turned to look towards Shirou after the two had seen enough of the market place. "Forgive my sudden intrusion into your personal time, but I wish to collaborate with you on a certain planned initiative."

"You didn't go over this with Arturia did you?" Shirou spoke lightly. As the one who modeled Agravain after the real-life equivalent, he understood the man in front of him to a certain extent.

If Arturia ran the Kingdom of Camelot as the Light, then Agravain was the Shadow. There were many methods at Agravain's disposal that Arturia would hardly ever agree with, yet all were necessary nonetheless for Camelot's prosperity. This was why it could be debated that the fall of Camelot began not with Mordred, but with the death of Agravain.

Just as Shirou expected, Agravain didn't bat an eye to his question as he answered indirectly with a sharp narrowing of his brows. "There are things that need not be made aware to the King for the sake of the whole, just as a Knight need not question the command of their superiors."

Shirou hummed in thought, a finger tapping over the surface of the table in front of him as he contemplated. "What do you have in mind?" He questioned.

Agravain had prepared everything from the moment that Shirou had said that he'd leave the situation in Agravain and Arturia's hands.

In Agravain's ears, it was something like a test to judge his capabilities, and he did not plan to fail.

As an NPC created by Shirou, he could vividly recall the care and attention Shirou had put into creating him. At the same time, it made it possible to see Shirou's own weariness through his life of chasing after an ideal that could never be realized. His creator was selfless beyond anything Agravain had ever seen before. It was to the point that he would have called Shirou a fool if not for the admiration deep within him for a man who refused to give up despite the overwhelming odds.

His creator had worked hard enough. He was certain that all of the other NPCs knew this as well. Therefore, he'd asked Arturia to make a trip with him to the Mausoleum of Heroes to discuss with the other NPCs about plans for the future, leading to one common consensus.

A path of least bloodshed.

Their creator had worked himself enough. It was a sentiment that none of the NPCs in the Mausoleum would disagree with, and it was time for them to do their part. One by one, they left the Mausoleum to expand out into the New World underneath Shirou's notice. None of them wished to burden Shirou any longer, and instead wished to realize an ultimate goal.

A world where everyone could be free and Heroes were no longer needed.

A place where their Master could finally rest. An Avalon in the middle of nowhere.

For such a means, the heroes of the mausoleum would do their part to quell the tensions and wars of the New World with all their capabilities.

Nero was seeking Shirou out to discuss her intention of travelling towards a place known as 'the Empire' by the common folk of Roble.

Cu was to head towards the Re-Estize Kingdom after his mission, while the rest of the Heroes in the mausoleum chose to stay and guard it, or to just travel the world on a whim. Scathatch chose to remain while NPCs like Gilgamesh and Enkidu chose to lead a new adventure. The two had left traveling on a golden carriage days prior with no news to be heard back from them. Then again, Agravain was not concerned about Gilgamesh and Enkidu's safety.

Gilgamesh had two forms, one in a passive state, and the other in an aggressive state. In simpler terms, when out travelling, Gilgamesh had assumed a Caster form to broaden his understandings of the new scenery. In battle, he had the ability to class change into an Archer if need be to unleash the Grand Treasury of Babylon.

There was no need for Agravain to overly concern himself with the actions of the two. They were strong enough as they were.

What Agravain needed to do right now was the task before him.

If Nero was to head towards The Empire, and Cu towards Re-Estize, then it was his King and fellow Knights duty to oversee the turmoil in Roble.

"If you'd cooperate with this humble one's request, I'd be most honoured," Agravain bowed his head low. "What I have in mind only needs you to act by the end. All else can be left on my side to deal with."

The expression on Shirou's face twitched as Agravain explained his intentions with unerring attention to detail.

He really was taking his role seriously.

* * *

Shirou sighed, wondering just how Agravain could come up with something so elaborate yet insist that Shirou was the true genius.

Shirou had never been much of an intellectual person to be honest. Instead he preferred simpler approaches in order to accomplish a goal, but it didn't mean that he was ill-opposed to using a more effective method.

This was the reason that he had reluctantly agreed to something so underhanded in the sense that it was basically all just an elaborate ruse.

What was the best method to stop a conflict?

There many answers but the one Agravain had come up to in his experience as a Knight of the Round was fairly simple- A common enemy.

Ever since the last attack by the Demi-Humans several years back, the threat the Demi-Humans imposed had largely diminished. Left with no other aggressors to deal with, the nobility of Roble fell into a tendency of in-fighting and power struggles that fractured rather than repaired the strength of the Kingdom. It was due time that such deplorable actions were to come to an end, and Agravain would see to it as quickly as possible.

The golem Shirou had created in front of him resembled something more like a mud-slime due to his low level of skill. Unlike in YGGRASIL he could not freely edit anything using the system interface, and as such, he was left staring at a veritable pile of moving slop. Worse, his in-game character was physical-class-based, forcing him to use his own magecraft in an attempt to help but to no avail. It wasn't to say that his skill level was low, it was just that his magic was unsuited for his current endeavors which was why he was currently being watched.

A ringing laughter entered his ears from a location a few feet away from him.

He scratched the back of his wryly at his failure in the eyes of a woman he had mixed feelings about. She had been an enemy once upon a time, nearly killed him too, but he'd still made her out of nostalgia.

It was Medea of Colchis. The Caster of the Fifth Holy Grail War.

She was standing with her arms crossed, wearing a light purple robe downed with lighter colours within the interior. Her face was out in display, pointed ears and soft blue hair seemingly almost elf-like in their characteristics.

He knew her settings and history well, but her current personality seemed less morose then usual. That and she looked fairly different with her hood off, far less menacing. Still, the fact that he wasn't exactly certain of what was going on with his NPCs and the new 'life' given to them, left him a little weary considering how devious of an opponent Medea had once been.

Then again, it was Agravain who had enlisted her help, and him who insisted that he could at least try to be of use. The end result though was far from stellar.

Comparing his created mound of moving mud to the Dragon-Tooth Warriors, Wyverns and Shadowed-Chimeras that Medea had created was like a babbling baby trying to compete with a professional.

He should have admitted defeat from the moment he found out that he'd be creating anything other than swords and weapons with his magic in the first place. However, he didn't like the feeling of others working while he remained idle so he tried to do what he could, the result being Medea laughing at his pitiful attempts.

"I hate to say this Master, but it would probably be better if I did this alone," Medea said softly. "Your knowledge in the arcane, is well," she coughed into her hand to stifle the smile working its way up her face, "It's unique, I suppose. They could probably blend in with the ground and wait until someone steps on them, but I don't believe that was what Agravain was intending."

 _Of course not_ , Shirou stopped trying entirely. Not only was creating golems far more taxing on him than Tracing swords, but his attunement just wasn't aligned with what he was trying to do despite how much Medea insisted that he possessed enough magical power to practice with.

Regardless, what Agravain wanted was an army so staggeringly despair inducing that none in Southern Roble could even think about starting a civil war.

It was then that the 'The Holy Maiden' would come in with her powerful Knights and Holy helpers to single-handedly defeat the enemy. The fact that Arturia was unaware of Agravain's plotting would only add to the effect as she would take the situation seriously.

At Medea's current output, she could make thousands of golems and familiars a day, and judging from the sheer number Shirou could already see, it was evident that Agravain had instructed her to begin working them long before he'd gotten involved.

Just for clarification, but Agravain had set Shirou's role to be the mysterious Hero serving by the King's side. The most difficult aspect of his role was to make sure that Arturia wouldn't catch on to what was happening. This was the crux of Agravain seeking him out and it was easier said than done.

In the end though he had still agreed as it would lead to the result with the least bloodshed. The golems and familiars Medea was making couldn't be considered casualties as Medea could create them again by infusing her magic with the correct materials. Earth golems were the most abundant as all that was needed was soil and rock.

The latest addition to the army Medea was secretly creating was a moving mound of mud that Shirou was considering trying to hide away due to how sorely it sticks out. Worse, as if to mock him, Medea had stationed it near the head of the army.

He left at that very moment, unwilling to create anymore mud slimes and be teased by a witch whose true personality wasn't actually as horrendous as the Holy Grail War.

The sound of Medea's mirthful chckling trickled into his ears as he left, not knowing that Medea had actually placed his mud-slime in front as a sign of her respect for the person who somehow gave her a new chance at life.

All that was going through Shirou's mind, was that it was better for him to just stick to his role.

Now if only the armour Agravain had prepared for him wasn't so gaudy and Red.

It made him feel like he was imitating a certain Red Archer.

* * *

Navigating through the bramble of Southern Roble two scouts sent by Calca Bessarez worked silently side by side to look as unassuming as possible as they prepared to venture into the local villages for information.

One of the scouts was a trusted subordinate of Calca and was also part of the 'Nine Colours,' a group of the strongest and most renowned individuals currently in Roble. His main Class was a Ranger and he preferred life in the country and woods to the bustling streets of the capital. The noise hurt his ears and he could never relax properly unless he employed a form of magic to mute his surroundings. The only reason he'd even bothered to remain within the capital was due to his wife and young daughter. His wife was a paladin serving the Holy Order, and his daughter aspired to follow after his wife's career path. Which meant to say, that the slow life of the country side would be forever out of reach.

The man's name was Pavel Baraja, a platoon sergeant of the Holy Kingdom's army in the North.

He had been tasked by the Holy Queen to investigate the circumstance surrounding the oddities in the South, and for some reason she'd scent him a helper despite his skills. A man by the name of Gemas Hawthorne, a peasant granted nobility as a Baronet after rendering an undisclosed meritorious service to the crown.

Although Pavel was curious, he had no business prying into another man's secrets. More so when the Queen hinted that Gemas was the most suitable to aid him given the suspicion of the Eight-Fingers, an underground syndicate's involvement in Roble.

Pavel didn't know it, but Gemas had been vital in the elimination of the information network that the Eight-Fingers had once set up in Northern Roble. Which was to say, if the Eight-Fingers could set up such an intricate web in the North, then they must have had been able to do the same in the South.

Gemas was necessary in this case to try and discover any clues in southern Roble. Therefore, in his seventeenth year of service to the crown, he was placed under Pavel as support.

Pavel however didn't exactly know what to make of Gemas, but at the very least the man was both professional and competent as a veteran of thirty-eight years.

Presently, the both of them had changed out of their regular armours and into a pair of torn rags that looked no different from the garments of peasants.

They could not wear their official attires if they wanted to blend in and look for information, but Pavel still felt the need to carry something to identify himself should he meet a friendly. It was a symbol of the royal crown which he had hid beneath the cloak he was wearing.

Gemas stared at Pavel in disapproval for taking such a risk, but didn't open his mouth to speak as he put on a darker shade of the peasant's attire due to preferences. He wasn't one for bright colours due to the circumstances of his past.

Neither of the two spoke much. In fact, both men were the silent and professional types, neither being too excessive in their use of words.

The quiet in the air wasn't awkward by any sense of the word, but was instead mutually productive. Both Pavel and Gemas seemed to be the same type of individual so it made understanding each other's intentions a lot easier.

There was no need for words when actions were enough.

The two went out to the direction of the local villages specified on the map only to discover a large problem. All of the villages were completely empty, many even burnt down into ashes after what looked to be a raid.

Gemas knelt down by the side of a burnt and dilapidated building and brushed the ashes off to reveal a charred children's doll beneath.

He shook his head in regret for the lives lost. "There's no one here."

It was the same for the next village and the one after.

Pavel's brow had long since furrowed in consternation. It was like the entirety of the peasants and villages within southern Roble had up and vanished. Blood stains were evident in some of the villages he'd seen, making it highly likely that a slaughter had ensued.

Just what exactly was going on in the South?

The only clue both Gemas and Pavel managed to obtain etched into a plank of wood as a ign for others was a single phrase.

 _"Go to the True Holy Kingdom in the West."_

Pavel was utterly baffled at the phrase, and had to read it numerous times to make sure that he was reading it properly. Gemas in contrast was already making his way to the west in the direction of the large mountain. The sooner he got the job done, the sooner he could see his wife and kids.

The time it took for the both of them to change back into their armours and travel to the forested mountainside in the west took roughly three days on horseback. They couldn't ride continuously lest their horses tire, so they made due with taking numerous breaks along the banks of a river running alongside the direction of their intended destination.

Pavel was currently wearing his signature enchanted leather armour with an owl stitched to his right chest and the emblem of the Holy Kingdom on his left. Gemas in contrast wore a tunic around whatever protective garment he wore beneath. From the luster of Orichalcum that Pavel had spotted at the corner of his eye, Gemas's armour was definitely expensive.

Both Pavel and Gemas wore leather covered with metal plates over their arms and legs, but the rest of Gemas's attire was largely hidden behind the gaudy cloak he was wearing.

"We're still acting as scouts," Gemas reasoned. "We can't just give ourselves away even though there's no one near us."

It was a fair point and just because they didn't run into anyone in the past three days didn't mean that they should let their guard down. Gemas was right, though Pavel couldn't be faulted for not wearing his cloak twenty-four-seven. It would stink like a rat's ass and frankly he didn't know how Gemas could cope with it. Unknown to Pavel, Gemas washed his cloak in the river near them early every morning.

Personal hygiene aside, Pavel and Gemas had eventually reached their destination, entering the forest at the foot of a large mountain where it suddenly grew oddly quiet.

Both Pavel and Gemas possessed Ranger Classes and their experience out in the woods wasn't be belittled.

It was odd.

The forest.

It was silent.

There were no sounds of falling leaves, the rustling of animals, or even the cawing of birds. All that remained was an oppressive sort of quiet that unnerved the two in how unnatural it was.

Pavel furrowed his brows. He did not recall Roble ever having a forest quite like the one he'd just entered. The way a hand circled to the base of his bow revealed the unease he was feeling.

Suddenly, Gemas stopped, a finger brushing over a ring worn on his left hand.

It was an enhanced Ring of Detection he'd once obtained through the black market. It was a + 7 ring that could detect presences within a radius of 25-meters. Only those with a concealment skill greater than 5 could avoid its detection.

Frowning, the result of Gemas's actions proved negative, the ring indicating that there was no one nearby, but his gut was warning him. He'd lived a harsh life and hard worked his way up to his current standing. He couldn't ignore his very senses which he'd honed for years.

"We're being watched," Gemas warned, trusting his intuition.

Pavel merely raised a brow. He'd never had a need to use a detection ring as he was fairly confident in his own perception level.

He heard Gemas's warning, and rather than doubt him, he readied his bow in preparation for an ambush. As a soldier and leader, he knew that doubt and the unwillingness to trust in the judgement of others could lead to death- especially if the judgment of another was proven correct.

A subtle trace of wind passed through the area before sound suddenly returned to the forest.

"Your senses are quite sharp, aren't they?" A man dropped down from the trees wearing a dark cloak over the green vest he wore beneath. In the next moment, he made a gesture with his hand and spoke again. "Do you recognize them?"

The person being addressed was a woman who stood awkwardly at the side. Much to both Gemas and Pavel's bewilderment, they had not noticed her until it was pointed out, but they were quick to understand that it was probably the work of the man before them. His level of concealment must have been exceedingly high to pull of such a maneuver.

"No," the woman shook her head before her gaze focused on the emblem hidden beneath Paval's left chest and her eyes widened. "You're from the North too?" She seemed almost excited. "My name is Tyra Bremming of the espionage department of the Royal Crown."

Tyra had been sent years before Pavel and Gemas to act as an insider to the events that occurred in Southern Roble. She had been posing as a member of nobility under the vassalage of the Vendele family until the change in circumstances led her to her present situation.

She was the very woman that Cu had spared on his first mission to disrupt Duke Berferd's pursuers. Like she had said, she had been a spy for year and had given Cu the locations of vital areas to wreak havoc on the armies led by the southern nobles. Of course, Cu didn't take her along, but had instead tasked her to help the Nameless King identify potential enemies within the forest surrounding Camelot.

"They aren't enemies," she was quick to explain. "They're from the same place as me."

Pavel and Gemas looked between each other before Pavel stepped forward as the man of superior rank in the army. "Just what is going on here?" He asked Tyra who rather than replying turned to the man who jumped out from the trees.

This prompted both Gemas and Pavel to stare at the man in scrutiny, unable to grasp what level of ability the man possessed to hold authority over a trained member of Northern Roble.

Pavel was Tyra's superior by military rank, she shouldn't have had to seek permission from an unknown to speak, but the fact that she did spoke volumes.

"Friendlies, huh, well that makes things easier," the man slumped his shoulders, putting away what looked like a crossbow mounted on his right arm before pulling off his hood.

The man beneath was young. No older than a man in his late twenties or early thirties. He had scruffy orange hair covering one side of his eyes and vivid green pupils that seemed highly unmotivated with his task. In fact, it looked as if the man had just woken up from a nap. However, both Pavel and Gemas could tell that this wasn't an individual to be taken lightly.

Pavel could feel that the attainment of the man before him in regards to the Ranger-Class was similar if not greater than his own. "May I ask for your name?" Pavel could not hide his curiosity. He was a member of the Nine Colours and no individual that he knew of could be compared to him in terms of Ranger Level and skill. For one to suddenly show up in Southern Roble made him feel like the information the north had on the south was highly inaccurate.

The man lazily viewed Pavel up and down before giving out a low whistle. "You can call me Robin Hood. I'm currently acting as this forest's guardian. Well not for much longer anyway. This will probably be my last day before a life of lounging awaits me if everything goes according to plan."

"According to plan?" Gemas cut into the conversation, zeroing in on the most important point.

Robin Hood shrugged. "War is coming, and war is ending. So long as the common folk are safe, it's enough for me."

"War," Pavel muttered the words in a low whisper before turning to Tyra for answers. She explained everything that she knew of to the best of her abilities, stunning Pavel that the situation had already escalated to such a state.

Gemas scrutinized Robin Hood seriously, trying to look for anything that could indicate how trustworthy the man could be but finding nothing substantial. All he could do now was fish for answers. "What did you mean 'war is coming, and war is ending?'" he asked.

Robin closed his eyes and hummed before pointing in the direction of an open clearing several paces away. The action drew the attention of both Pavel and Tyra who'd finished their discussion.

"Why don't you go and see for yourself," Robin Hood advised before suddenly jumping up onto the trees and out of sight. "It should be starting by now anyway."

Narrowing their eyes, Pavel, Gemas, and Tyra could see the marching of a ginormous armed army.

* * *

There it was, just like the reports had stated. A castle located deep within the mountains whose walls seemed nigh-impenetrable with the number of Knights and fortifications done over top.

Admittedly, seeing it for what it was left a major blow on Anya, Eric, and Nathan who were fully aware that they had sent their children to apprehend the young heir of Duke Berferd in the area.

The fact that none of the forces they sent with their children had reported back left little doubt about their circumstances.

"This isn't possible," Anya muttered from atop her horse. She was garbed in heavy steel-plate armour with the laurels of the Merding's family crest emblazoned over a mantle on her back.

Behind her were rows upon rows of soldiers, Knights, and Archers that she had quickly gathered up once she came to the decision to investigate the oddity that was occurring in the West of Southern Roble. Unlike other aristocratic families, she, Eric, and Nathan understood the importance of information before conflict.

He who understood their enemy best would always be the inevitable victor. It was the way of war and conflict of interest. As such, before she had gathered the army around her, she had made personal inquires from the locals in the area to get a grasp of what was really going on.

To suddenly hear about the wild exaggerations about a fortified Holy Kingdom in the Western mountains was mind numbing.

It was simply impossible.

None knew better than this than herself. When she had first sent her son Dillan in preparation to catch Vincent Berferd in an ambush, she had accompanied Dillan to the exact location where the operation was to be held.

 _This castle did not exist._

She was certain of it. Yet as if to mock her, the pristine white walls before her eyes seemed to shatter whatever disillusions she harboured, replacing them with maternal fury.

Where was her son? What happened to him?!

The grip she had on the reins of her horse tightened so much that the leather that comprised them nearly tore at the seams. She hardly cared, her eyes blood-shot, and hair in disarray beneath her eagle-shaped helmet.

Nathan Huberts was feeling much the same concerning the safety of his daughter, but it was Eric who showed the biggest reaction. His face had completely paled when the army had passed a section of the forest and he saw the burnt apparel of the Vandele crest trampled into the ground. The fabric itself was exceedingly fragile after experiencing a type of heat unimaginable. The moment Eric had picked it up, it crumbled into ashes in the wind. Rage consumed him.

Unlike both Nathan and Anya who held onto the hope that their children were alive, the crest Eric had found was his personal crest that he'd given directly to his son on the day that Marteo was deemed a prodigy of the sword.

The fact that it was reduced to rubble meant only one thing. His son was dead.

It was the first time either Anya or Nathan had seen Eric explode with a cold fury. The quieter he was during the course of the journey, the greater his resentment became in Nathan and Anya's eyes.

Eric had stopped at nothing to gather the entire force of Noble Family.

Ballista were being hulled in the dozens, groups of High-Level Archers and disciplined soldiers marching in unison towards a common goal. They were out for blood. For vengeance.

Eric himself was personally leading the hundreds of cavalries he'd trained for years in his territory, never planning on using them unless in the case of an emergency. Yet at this point, he didn't care if he was weakening himself in the long run, making him a target for other aspiring nobles. Right now, all that was present in his mind was the annihilation of the enemy before him.

The Vandele forces combined with the Merdings and Huberts family Knights and retainers, swelled the army's numbers to a staggering ten-thousand strong even with the interference of a blue Lancer.

The Archers were lined behind the rows of Knights, but further ahead than the war machines stationed in the back protected by veteran Magic Casters.

The entire army was currently staring out at Camelot within the mountainside, a tense silence hanging in the air. Camelot alone was big enough to house the entire army of ten-thousand, so Anya, Eric, and Nathan had already decided to focus on a single area rather than spilt their forces thin.

In response, a single Knight stood before Camelot's wide gates, rows of Enforcement Knights barricading the doors in tightly knit defensive formations.

As if to give credit to the name of the 'Holy Kingdom' the light from the sun itself seemed to shine down upon the man guarding the gate with a confident posture and poise.

So long as he stood standing, then the gate would surely not fall.

From the distance, Anya and the rest could hear the shouts from the peasants and commoners that had taken refuge in Camelot calling out to a Sir Gawain in encouragement.

Anya scoffed.

Nathan furrowed his brows. No matter how he saw it, Camelot's walls did not seem equipped to deal with the offense of the catapults wheeled at the back along with the ballistae. At best, he could spot Knights running up and down the walls holding bows and arrows, but those would do little good against massive boulders raining down from the heavens.

By now Nathan understood the situation was irreversible with how intent Eric and Anya were, but more so when he spotted Duke Berferd staring at them from atop the walls.

The sight of their fellow Noble caused Eric's complexion to redden in rage.

If only Duke Berferd could have had just died quietly, then none of the current situation would have had been necessary. His son would not have had died either.

As the prelude to battle was continuing to intensify Eric and Anya began to organize the placement of the army before the attack. Nathan in contrast was shooting weary glances towards the hooded figures hiding within his camp.

If he had to name the specific reason everything had to happen as it did, it wasn't the fault of Duke Berferd like Eric assumed, but because of the actions of these individuals in the dark.

Members of the Eight-Finger, an underground syndicate whose primary base was situated in the Re-Estize Kingdom. They were using his connections with him as blackmail to goad his compatriots into a civil war in the south of Roble in hopes of profiting extensively from the slave trade.

Times of war were the best times to procure unsuspecting peasants in foreign lands, and the Eight-Fingers knew this concept well. Nathan did not how many of Roble's citizens that the Eight-Fingers had captured for trade in the turmoil of the Demi-Human invasion by the Shrush, but he was inwardly numb to it already. So long as his family was safe, then he could turn a blind eye to the misfortune of others. There was no way that he could stop the influence of the Eight Fingers by himself anyway, so he'd long since given up.

Being as the prospective slaves the Eight-Fingers wished to obtain at Duke Berferd's expense had all found refuge in the 'true' Holy Kingdom of Camelot, the representatives of the Eight-Fingers were not amused. To them, the Kingdom of Camelot was an eye-sore that had to be removed, leading to the current situation.

In fact, Nathan was keenly aware of something suspicious. Why was it that only the garments of Marteo Vandele were left behind when Marteo travelled with both Dillan and Elanor?

Should they not have found remnants of all three?

Nathan suspected that the members of the Eight-Fingers hiding in the Hubert Family forces had hand to play in Eric's situation. It was common knowledge at this point that the Vendele had secured the largest amount of military reserves in their current coalition. Of the ten-thousand in the army, over half were from house Vendele.

Realizing the truth in conjecture, Nathan shook his head and chose to feign ignorance much like Anya. Of course, Anya's ignorance was more because she refused to accept that her son was dead. Assuming that the cloth of the Vendele Crest that Eric had found was fake, then didn't that mean that the signs of battle in the area indicated that her son was dead too?

Anya was in a perpetual state of denial.

Nathan in comparison had some reassurance. There was life magic cast on his daughter from the work of a Magic Caster of the Hubert Family, and judging from what the specific Magic caster had told him, Elanor was still alive. Anya and Eric may have had employed similar means upon their children, but realizing that the Magic casters remained silent at their inquires, the two didn't want to delve further in at the time.

Tensions were running high.

The catapults had been set up at the back, yet despite seeing the threat that they posed, the Knights manning Camelot's walls appeared unperturbed. They hadn't even sent a unit of Knights to intercept the catapult teams and just chose to sit there like ducks to be hunted.

It infuriated Eric and Anya, but Nathan was feeling apprehensive.

Despite all the information he had tried to gather concerning Camelot, he could find nothing except for a single Legend found within an old tome by an author named Agra from house Vain; some noble house he assumed had fallen from grace and was lost from the history books. Mentioned only once in the tome, it concerned the disappearance of Roble's Holy Maiden in the Era of the Demon Gods.

 _When Evil and Dark come again, she would return with the splendor of a Valkyrie to save the citizens of Roble, erecting a Kingdom that would stand the test of time._

It was ludicrous and Nathan knew it, but staring at Camelot's white walls and the Kingdom it shielded within, the entire spectacle contained a regality that Nathan could only describe as sacred.

A Haven for the weak and troubled.

In perspective, he who had helped gather an army to besiege and trespass upon the tranquility before him was the true offender.

He couldn't help but think, were he and the others the Evil and Dark of Roble that the Legend had spoken of?

Just as he had thought about, he already knew that he was wrong. They were only the ants in comparison.

The ground shook.

Numerous Shadows suddenly loomed overhead such that they appeared like a black cloud to blot out the sun. Large in numbers, reptilian wings spread open, to encompass the very skies.

The wyverns that flew in the air were unlike the wyverns said to be tamed near the Baharuth Empire. Their bodies were blackened, a vile filth coursing through pulsating veins suffused with a kind of demonic energy that was unnatural, like a taint that sought to corrode all. Beneath them was a moving sea of monsters.

Worse, Nathan could hardly even identify them. Just as the wyverns above were covered in dark-wisp-like energy, the same was present on the approaching monstrosities. Many appeared to be a type of golem, while others resonated with the aura of Draconic might, the specialty of Dragon Tooth Warriors.

The endless sight of them caused the teams loading the boulders onto the catapults to freeze in place and drop what they were doing. They weren't the only ones, the common soldiers and Knights were the same, the din of clattering metals revealing the trembling of the common man.

 _It was a dark that that stretches across the land, encroaching and never ceasing. A plague. Remnants of the Demon Gods left buried within Roble._

Far more than just the ten-thousand soldiers that Nathan and the others had brought, the enemy appeared to number in the tens of thousands with how numerous they seemed.

"I-Impossible," dissension was already beginning to fracture the army apart, yet there was nowhere to run. None could escape the speed of a wyvern in the air or find a way to break out of the enemy encirclement.

Death had come, and all Nathan could see was the greed and indifference of humanity that had started it all. The hooded figures of the Eight-Fingers behind him were frighteningly silent, the scent of sulfur revealing that one of them had soiled their pants.

It was too late for regrets.

Eric and Anya in comparison were deathly pale.

Nathan closed his eyes, sitting still atop his horse as the sound of panic and the chattering of teeth echoed in his ears. Yet he would not fear. For if it was truly as the legend had said, then light would shine within the dark.

His eyes opened, his gaze moving not towards the army of monsters, but towards the white walls of Camelot.

"When darkness consumes the land, she will return again."

He kept the words in his heart, even as he and the others readied themselves for a battle against an adversary that they had no hope in defeating.

* * *

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	15. Holy City Camelot: Arc End

What exactly was it that they were seeing?

"Formations! Get into formations! Damn it, you bastards hurry they're coming!"

"Stop! I said stop!"

Chaos was spreading all around, fear and apprehension so thick in the air that it was palpable. Monsters, so many of them that it was inconceivable that they had not been noticed sooner. It was as if they had appeared from thin air. Hell-spawns of the highest order.

They surrounded an army comprised of Southern Roble's Knights and Aristocracy who in their panic were attempting to flee in all direction. Yet could they not see? There was simply no where to run, flanked on all sides.

All that could be done was defend.

Breaking formation was surely death.

Overlooking the distant battlefield, was a castle of white, seemingly pure in the darkness of despair that flickered upon the faces of the combatants.

"W-What in the Holy Maiden's name," Tyra took a step back and tripped over her feet, landing over the ground with a thump, but no one paid attention to her. "There's a black haze over them all."

Pavel nodded his head grimly. He could recognize some of the monsters in the army before him. Wyverns, undead, golems, dragon-tooth warriors, but he could feel a chill travel down his back just from the black smoke-like film that coated them all, obscuring their features. All that could be seen was the fierceness in their slanted red eyes.

It was a tainted aura. Something that was vile and should not have had existed.

It was corrupt. An encroaching darkness.

Gemas curled his lips and enacted the prayers he'd once undergone in his youth with a small gesture of his hands. He had never really believed in the religious aspects of the Holy Kingdom, but just this once, he realized that he was dealing with something beyond his understanding. His mind momentarily went blank. It was an aspect of himself that he hated for it would surely kill him one day in the wrong situation, regardless, it didn't quite matter right now. "Poor bastards," the words left his mouth, his eyes pressing shut as the screams began echoing.

The monsters struck with a fury beyond common means. Even the weakest looking of them appeared too difficult to handle.

One side was distressed, the other side, fully intent on beginning a massacre.

Gemas had seen many things in his life, but he didn't think that he'd ever forget the scene of three men crushed into paste by the weight of a ten-foot golem, nor the popping that accompanied it.

Humans were delicate. Nothing like the robust physiques of the other races.

If one ever asked what it looked like to see a man die in such a way. One need only fill a sack with water and crush it under a rock. Yet here was the kicker, Humans weren't sacks or balloons. The chest caved in, but everything else, exploded outwards into a gory mess.

Tyra's expression paled, her eyes widening as she ran to a bush and began dry heaving. Even for her, it was too much. Worse, the wyverns soon joined the golems in the assault, swooping in from the air, catching and dropping armoured soldiers to their deaths.

"If such an army came to the North…" Pavel's voice trailed off, but it was enough to get all three of them to stiffen.

None of the three dared to move. Not know. If they were seen, then they too would surely die.

Both Pavel and Gemas were confident in taking down three or four, but against so many adversaries, there was just no way.

The army led by Nathan, Anya, and Eric, the top Aristocracy of Southern Roble was quickly deteriorating, their shouts and orders lost in the wind, but heard clearly by Pavel and Gemas who both possessed the Ranger Class.

"The true danger isn't the Golems or Wyverns, focus on the skeletal warriors! They're directly breaking our formations!"

"W-We can't last much longer."

"Cavalry, use the cavalry and try to pierce through!"

"Is there even a point? How do you expect us to charge through Golems!"

The entire army was in disorder. The common solider no longer able to distinguish which order to follow and relying instead on their base instincts. The frontline crumbled.

Pavel could watch silently no longer. "We have to go and report this," he whispered heatedly and offsetting his generally silent disposition. "The North must prepare its entire army. The South may already be lost."

Could this be what had been happening? The missing reports, the erratic movements of the South- _was it all to combat some Evil re-emerging into the world?_ Pavel did not know.

Why did they not ask for help? Why did they not inform all of Roble?

Staring at the might of the army of monsters before him, Pavel came to his own conclusion. Even with the entire army of a united Roble, they would not be able to overcome this dark plague.

His complexion whitened rapidly. He was known by the Demi-Humans as the 'Mad-Eyed' Archer, never flinching in the face of opposition, but this was different. The enemy threatening all of Roble, their origins were undoubtably heinous. In fact, there was only one logical answer to be led towards.

An ill omen.

A premonition.

"Are the Evil Deities returning?" No one answered his question.

The implications were too much to bear, and this time, there would be no Thirteen Heroes to save them all. Perhaps of the few that remained, they could suppress the resurging Evil, but there were no guarantees. The Heroes were old now, with many having already perished.

Of all places for the Evil Deities to make their reappearance, why did it have to be Roble?

Pavel thought of his family back in the North, and a bitterness nearly overwhelmed him inside. He was loyal to the Kingdom, but traitorous thoughts of forcibly relocating his family to a nearby empire were quickly filling his mind.

He wasn't the only one, as Gemas too had his wife to think about.

Solemnity filled the air with tension, Pavel shifting his weight between either foot and contemplating in silence. The Demon Gods were surely returning, and Roble's Holy Maiden, it's Valkyrie Knight that had once defended the Kingdom, was gone.

This wasn't simply an issue for Roble to face alone. Help was needed. However, there was nowhere Roble could really go.

In the age of tentative peace brought about by the Thirteen Heroes, new conflict arose. Without the pressure of a common enemy, the relations between the other Kingdoms and Empires quickly soured over territorial disputes and politics. Roble was no different.

The age of Man vs Monster had gone, but in its stead came the age of War.

With the coming return of an old enemy, it still wasn't possible to mend recent wounds so easily.

The fact was, would the other Kingdoms even believe them without seeing the situation first hand at their door steps? The era of the Evil Deities was plagued by death and ruin everywhere. There was no need for evidence to be shown to pinpoint the true adversary, but now? The other Kingdoms would not be so trusting.

The Baharuth Empire and Re-Estize Kingdom for example had been waging turf wars for years. To get them to partner up over speculation was impossible.

Pavel clenched his hands into fists, the whites of his knuckles showing before he hastily began writing on a piece of parchment. Moments later, he whistled discreetly, calling forth a rat which he tied the written paper on before sending it off to burrow through the ground.

The situation was grim. The only thing he could hope for was that the forces of Southern Roble could hold out long enough for the North to take action. The prospect was bleak, the Southern Army basically in ruins with all military order on the verge of collapse.

The sun was setting overhead as if symbolizing the coming of Dark times for the future.

A dark haze.

The return of the nefarious.

Yet in all dark, there existed light.

"Open the Gates," A voice echoed throughout, regal yet firm. "Merlin, if you can hear me, transport the injured."

The white-walled castle that had seemed so insignificant when compared to the army of monsters suddenly seemed to ignite into a blazing beacon. The gates of the castle groaned as they swung free, a garden of flowers blooming to life and moving on their own to carry the incapacitated forward.

Pavel and the others were dumbstruck. Gemas though soon reacted, grabbing both Tyra and Pavel to bolt ahead. The flowers forced the monsters to retreat, giving a small period of respite from the violence.

Gemas saw an opportunity.

Pavel understood Gemas's intentions in an instant. With the Southern Army making a mad dash towards the safety of the castle walls, it wouldn't be long before the army of monsters discovered them hiding. Death would surely come at that point so there was no other choice than forward.

Pavel gritted his teeth, and sprinted like he'd never done before. As they had been watching from a distance, they had a lot more ground to cover than the Southern Army, many monsters turning towards them.

His heart began to beat violently within his chest, his breathing gradually growing uneven, and yet there was a steady warmth growing within him. Like the touch of the sun's rays on a pleasant afternoon.

Flickering mots of golden light seemed to dance in the air, like grains of sand that seemed to be playing tricks on his eyes. He blinked, and the world returned to normal.

Ahead of them, stood a woman at the tallest point of the high wall, overlooking all.

Clad in armour, wreathed in an iridescent glow, a sword in hand.

Pavel was momentarily stunned by her beauty. It was a kind that he'd never seen in a woman before, attractive yet not forceful. Endearing, yet not enchanting.

He could look at her no longer, too focused on running that by the time that he felt an explosion go off behind him, all that he could do was stare blankly as the monsters pursing him were reduced to ashes.

It was miraculous. What would have taken him several attacks to defeat just one, had been done in the course of seconds.

He swallowed; the sound audible to his ears as he turned back to stare at the castle ahead of him.

On the way to the west, he'd long since heard of the sayings from the common people of the South. A place of refuge.

 _A True Holy Kingdom._

The hope to be found in despair.

* * *

The order of the entire army was beyond control from the moment the gates of the white-walled castle were opened. Knights were inadvertently trampling over each other in their bid to seek safety and no amount of shouting would change anything. The army of monsters was right at their heels, refusing to let up their assault.

Anya and Eric were included in the people making their way to safety.

Nathan watched the proceedings silently, taking note of the way that the members of the Eight Fingers were the first to take off like startled rabbits. As for himself, he was too busy staring at the individuals that appeared in front of him to care about anything else.

"Father," Elanor Hubert called out softly, running forward into a hug.

Near Elanor was a certain mage that was smiling craftily from ear to ear. From the looks of the magic seals sprouting from the man's staff, it became clear that he was the man that was willing the flowers to transport the injured.

The man named 'Merlin' that had been called out earlier.

"So, you are the perpetrator of this entire incident," Merlin said offhandedly towards Nathan. "Your dealing with a criminal syndicate weren't exactly as hidden as you believed them to be. The information your daughter personally discovered is tantamount of that."

Elanor flinched when Merlin brought her up, she was trying to make as much distance from him as possible. Merlin scoffed, but didn't say anything else as he and Nathan made eye contact.

From the moment that Merlin had left, he wasn't exactly just hiding away from a certain guardian of the Land of Shadows, but conducting his own investigation. Despite being a natural womanizer, he still had his priorities and duties that he wouldn't just shirk off without reason.

Threats to his 'home base' existed in the category of 'needed to be handled,' therefore he acted at his discretion. Regardless, it seemed as if the matter was already taken care of by Agravain so he'd just do what was needed of him to end everything sooner.

Nathan simply nodded at Merlin's words. "If I had any other choice, I would not have brought civil conflict to the South. More than that, this Evil is perhaps the world's retribution for my actions."

Nathan looked solemnly at the army of monsters that Medea had created.

The smile on Merlin's face twitched for a moment, but no one noticed in the chaos.

"Yes, well, we best be going." Merlin avoided the matter and directly began aiding the Southern Army through the walls of Camelot. Flowers sprung at his every step, healing both the injured and stabilizing the panic in the air.

Meanwhile, the monsters would just barely miss their attacks as they pursued.

Within moments, everyone had taken shelter inside Camelot.

"Close the Gates."

With a single order, the gates shut closed, and yet the air of gloom had not lifted. Many of the survivors doubted that the walls would even hold at all. The enemies were too fierce and beyond their ability to combat.

Anya and Eric had mixed feelings as they stared up at Arturia's figure in the distance. They had been enemies literally just hours ago, and in their time of need, the enemy had chosen to save them.

They could not understand the kind of compassion and integrity that they'd just witnessed.

For the common soldier though, the reaction wasn't as complicated. They dropped down to their knees in gratitude, some traumatized by the violence that they'd just experienced and muttering incoherently.

Rather than grow displeased or show any contempt, Arturia remained staring steadfastly forward, her other Knights silently moving to stand by her side.

Lancelot of the Lake.

Gawain of the Sun.

Tristan Knight of Sorrow.

Galahad the Shield Bearer.

Agravain the Stalwart.

Bedivere the Faithful.

Mordred the Betrayer.

And lastly, Shirou.

Ordered in line, the presence they gave off was indescribable.

For Tyra, Pavel, Gemas, Nathan, Anya, Eric, and everyone else who'd not seen such a sight before, they were speechless. It was not fear in the faces of Arturia and the others, but neutrality. It was as if the monsters before them were nothing more than low-leveled creations.

From the corner of Arturia's eyes, she glanced at Shirou, but she didn't say anything and turned to stare back at the enemy instead.

Under the eyes of all, Lancelot and the others directly jumped down over the walls to engage the enemy as Shirou and Tristan began firing shot after shot from their bows.

The twang of steel and the tremor of distant explosions rocked the area.

It was the Assault of the Bosses of YGDRASIL's Holy Kingdom of Camelot; a level of power that none in Roble had ever seen, and in the midst of it all, was the sight that moved people the most.

It was not the scene of a wall of flames engulfing the enemy, or the sheer splendor of the swordsmanship Lancelot, Bedivere, Agravain, Mordred, and Galahad displayed, but something that meant far more to the hearts of the people of Roble.

Nathan and the others lowered their heads, Vincent, and Duke Berferd looking up with a glint in their eyes. Even the soldiers and Knights, traumatized by the monster's attacks grew quiet.

"It can't be," Pavel exclaimed in a silent whisper, shoulders trembling in agitation. He had to report this. _It was of the utmost importance._

Tyra herself could hardly get a word out of her mouth while Gemas stared on blankly.

Arturia remained where she had been from the start, her hands gradually moving to wield her sword, the mantle over her shoulders billowing in the wind. "Camelot will not fall. These walls will not be breached not so long as I stand before you."

At Agravain's insistence, an emblem was stealthily embroidered onto the lining of Arturia's back armour. The symbol of Roble's ruling Monarchy taken in the fashion of Roble's National Hero out in full display.

It was the Crest of the Holy Kingdom, the Valkyrie of Roble: A Holy Sword lined with wings on either side that formed a hilt.

Arturia unclasped the thread of her mantle around her neck, letting it fall silently behind her as she gathered her energy into an attack. Lancelot and the others could deal with the monsters just fine with enough time, but in order to alleviate the worries she had seen in the eyes of the people of Roble, she would give them a source of comfort.

That, and to quell all future conflict. For a world that no longer needed Heroes.

She glanced at Shirou once again, the image of him standing by her side for a lifetime without worrying about anything else filling her mind.

It was her goal.

Something that she couldn't understand, but desperately wanted on a subconscious level. Her eyes closed tightly; a breath exhaled.

She'd waited long enough.

The thought appeared in her head, lost in the heat of the moment.

She opened her eyes and released her magical energy.

In her hands was an item known in YGDRASIL as a World Item with the ability to utterly ruin the balance of the game itself. Modified by Shirou, it looked identical to the weapon Arturia wielded in life as King Arthur.

It was the sword granted to her by the Lady of the Lake.

Excalibur.

In game, it had the ability to wipe out any and all obstacles before it, nullifying buffs, revival, and resist death effects with a single swing, and yet, now it seemed different.

An invisible pressure descended outwards, like a gale of wind that softly blew everything back in over a hundred-meter radius.

Shirou stiffened, the grip he had on his bow slackening in shock and grief _._

Light began to converge, forming mottled speckles that Pavel had once believed to be a trick to his eyes.

This wasn't a function of Excalibur the World Item. Shirou knew this by heart, yet to all others, the scene was mesmerizing.

To carry hopes and dreams upon a single sword and remain steadfast to one's convictions, it did not matter of the past present and future circumstance. It was a light that all would stop and witness for its glory and meaning alone.

Promised Victory in battle.

The Holy Sword that carved a path through the invasion of the Saxons in the British Isles.

The energy formed a tower that reached forth towards the heavens, banishing the dark.

North or South Roble, it didn't matter anymore in this instance within the eyes of those present. There was only Roble to be seen carried on the shoulders of the Valkyrie who suddenly reappeared. Their faith and beliefs ignited as many made up their minds on a certain decision.

Shirou however was different. He watched silently; weapons left entirely forgotten.

Arturia positioned a leg forward, shifting her weight while the sword in her hand shone with a divine luster.

Her expression.

Her disposition.

All was captured in the hearts of the people in a single instance.

"Excalibur!"

The sword was swung, a name invoked as the world was dyed with a blinding gold radiance that encompassed all. Bathed in its aura, the monsters that stood before it and even the land itself was blown out of existence.

The clouds in the sky themselves seemed to have had parted.

Standing alone amidst the silence, Arturia sheathed her sword, standing with both her hands clasped over the pommel. "You are safe," she said with confidence, voice clear.

She turned around, a smile tugging on her lips as she made her first formal greeting with a nod of her head.

"Welcome, to the Holy Kingdom of Camelot."

* * *

Calca shot up onto her feet far faster than what she had intended, nearly tripping in her sudden action, but not caring nonetheless. "What did you just say?" She asked again to verify.

"A mass migration is occurring to the South," Kelart Custodio was reading off from a report that she held in her hands, her brows furrowed incomprehensively. "The majority of them are just commoners, but even some high-standing nobles are included in the list."

Calca and Kelart were within a private room located within the Capital of Northern Roble inside the Queen's castle. Calca had been siting on a velvet chair at the center of the room while Kelart had been reading adjacent from the red-carpet that extended towards the chair.

The room much resembled a reception hall and it was where Calca discussed the formal matters of the Kingdom.

As both Kelart and Calca thought to themselves in silence, Remedios quietly entered the room, closed the door behind her, and stood off to the side.

"Any luck?" Kelart asked, raising her head up from the reports that she was browsing through.

"No," Remedios responded curtly. "The matters of the south are being held so confidential that even the commoners don't dare reveal what had occurred. It's as if they fear that the North we'll launch a civil war."

Calca pursed her lips, her feet carrying her back and forth as she began pacing. "What of Gemas and Pavel, and the involvement of the Eight Fingers?" She asked.

She had full confidence in Pavel and Gemas. Pavel because he was part of the Nine Colours and Gemas due to the circumstance regarding the man's past. Gemas had once been part of the Eight Fingers before he had defected and helped remove the Eight Fingers presence in the North. If anyone could spot the presence of the Eight Fingers, it was Gemas.

"About that," Kelart spoke up before sifting through the papers in her hands to pull out a particular sheet. "Pavel has already sent a report in, but it's hard to understand."

Kelart revealed the contents of the paper in her hand consisting of scraggily lines that were hardly legible. "He wrote hastily, almost as if he was in a rush or in a precarious situation. The few words that stand out are 'War,' 'Monsters,' 'Gather Army,' and," Kelart paused, her expression solemn. "Evil Deities."

Tension immediately filled the air. Neither of the three women in the room had been alive in the era of the Evil Deities, but even till the present day, their influence could still be seen in the lands.

Calca swallowed down her nervousness, keenly feeling the gravity of the situation for what it was. Pavel was loyal, he would not needlessly give out false information, and therefore, she could not ignore what he was trying to tell her.

"What else does it say?" Calca asked, trying her best to keep her voice stable.

Remedios for her part was tightly clutching the hilt of her Holy Sword in agitation.

News of the Evil Deities was not something that could be taken lightly.

Kelart shook her head. "It doesn't say much else. All I have left to look at are the reports from the other spies that aren't quite sure of the situation either. At this point, it would probably be for the best if my sister and I made a personal trip."

Calca didn't answer, but she nodded her consent after Remedios reassured her of their safety.

Both Kelart and Remedios were prodigies in their fields. They would not be killed off so easily.

As Kelart continued reading the reports, a knock was soon registered on the door.

"Come in," Calca called out.

A man from the secret intelligence organization walked in to hand out a letter, bowed, and then promptly left. Of course, Calca's lip twitched in frustration when it seemed like the man had the wrong idea about her having Remedios and Kelart together as private company.

The rumours would only proliferate further. Her dream of getting married to a gentle husband was getting further and further away. Truthfully, she was already sulking, and if not for the direness of the situation, she would have had tried to devise a means with Kelart and Remedios to fix her reputation as a pure Lady instead of fret over dangers to the kingdom.

"Hmmm," Kelart hummed in thought just moments after the man had left. She then opened the letter in her hand and quickly browsed through it under Calca and Remedios's gaze.

Kelart startled in surprise moments later, her eye brows raising. "It says Pavel returned to Northern Roble three days ago. This is great news." She passed the letter for the others to read. In the end it was still just a notice with nothing substantial.

"Call for Pavel, I need the information verified directly from his mouth," Calca promptly took action. She didn't know why Gemas hadn't turned in his report yet, but right now it didn't matter. The need to know what was happening in the south was only increasing by the day and Pavel was already around.

Remedios quickly left on Calca's instruction, but came back just as quickly.

She had a troubled expression.

"About Pavel," Remedios frowned, eyes narrowed. "He's already gone. The informant who met with him said that Pavel retired upon his return and has since filed to take his family to the South. I say 'filed,' but Pavel already forcibly took his family away including his daughter Neia Baraja who was studying to become a Paladin under my command. At this point, we can't get in contact with him."

Calca blinked her eyes, while slowly registering what she'd just been told. They were talking about Pavel, right? Loyal Pavel?

He left without even offering a formal appearance?

"Huh?" Was the only sound that Calca could make in her befuddlement.


	16. Prologue: Heroes of the Capital

With the situation stabilizing in Southern Roble, the other NPC's of the Mausoleum had begun their mobilization in full, spreading out in secret to fulfill a single shared goal. Of particular note was both Cu and Nero.

Nero had departed towards the Baharuth Empire and Cu towards the distant fortress city of E-Rantel within the Re-Estize Kingdom.

Cu's matter regarding Merlin had been largely settled with Merlin's reappearance in Camelot, so he was freed from having to track Merlin down now that Scathach knew where the bastard was.

Cu disliked being cooped up for long periods of time and he had been one of the first to leave upon hearing of Agravain's plans for the future.

 _"Create a foothold in E-Rantel."_ Agravain had specifically requested of him.

He scratched his head and frowned. He knew next to nothing about how to go about doing his task as he preferred enjoying a good brawl above anything else. To begin with, did Agravain intend for him to create a base of sorts in E-Rantel? Or did he mean to just make a name for himself to increase his influence? In which case, he had plenty of experience in the latter option.

He was the shield of Ulster, the hound of the plains, Cu Chulainn. He was famous everywhere he went in his home country and the way he got about doing so, well, that was easy.

Fight.

A smirk made its way onto his lips as he neared E-Rantel. To get from Roble to his current location it did not take him more than a couple of days due to his parameters and base stats. He had simply been sprinting, unwilling to travel on a slow carriage and waste his time away by staring at the clouds. He'd only consider doing such a thing if he was fishing which was an ideal past-time hobby of his.

Regardless, he was getting off topic.

E-Rantel was rather large with a bustling population with homes mainly built out of brick and pieces of wood. It reminded him of his home to be frank, now if only he'd gone with Fergus, he could have looked for a bar to drink at.

As he came on official business, he knew when and where it was appropriate to slack. Slacking from the beginning was not an option, and his teacher may just rebuke him if he did so. With that in mind, he walked forward with steady steps.

"Halt!" A guard at E-Rantel's gate stopped him from entering and asked for his identification papers which Cu understood that he didn't exactly have.

He rummaged through the sack of belongings he carried with him as he contemplated just running past the guard. It wasn't like the guard would be able to catch him anyway.

A minute passed, followed by another, the suspicion in the guard's eyes growing stronger when Cu failed to produce anything substantial.

"If you have no identifications, then leave," the Guard was firm. To stop thieves and bandits from entering E-Rantel he was not authorized to allow any unidentified personnel entry. "Although it's possible for me to turn a blind eye just this once, if you know what I mean?"

The guard made a small gesture with his hands, rubbing his thumb and index finger together and stared at Cu expectantly. The Guard had dealt with all types of people, and his experience was telling him that a customer was in front of him.

Cu for his part was not unfamiliar with what was happening. The toothless grin the Guard was giving him was more than enough of an indication that he had to tip his way into E-Rantel.

He generally frowned upon such corrupt activities, but in this case, it really was to his benefit. He'd probably have to force his way through otherwise, and Agravian probably didn't mean for him to get a foot hold in E-Rantel out of notoriety.

With a single motion, he dug deep into his sack of belongings and produced a single gold coin from YGDRASIL's currency. The guard literally stiffened upon seeing it, feeling as if he'd struck rich.

Grabbing the coin in an instant, the Guard pressed it close to him as if afraid that Cu would snatch it back. "Go on then," the guard shooed him away towards the direction of the open gate.

Cu did not waste anymore time, and directly left. He didn't want to deal with the other Guards that had seen his interaction with the first Guard and similarly wanted to take advantage of him. Even he had his limits to his patience.

At the very least, he was successful in entering E-Rantel.

Compared to Roble, E-Rantel appeared a lot more modernized in the medieval sense. There weren't as many trees and open plains of Roble, but what it had instead was a bustling market and a tidy infrastructure of buildings and roads that led newcomers and travelers directly towards the local inns.

Unfortunately, he wasn't looking for accommodations at the moment.

He was looking for a specific place which he soon found after a little luck and asking around a little.

The building in front of him was what was known as an Adventurer's building. It gave out different missions and tasks that Adventurers would fulfill to obtain a profit or reward.

He wasn't exactly used to using the term Adventurer, but at the very least the association strongly reminded him of the local mercenary jobs present in his own country in times of war. He decided to make a name for himself in the New World in this manner by flawlessly completing the hardest of tasks.

After all, this was the method mercenaries used to grow famous and sell their work to higher bidders. The Adventurer's Association was just the same name for the same thing. A mercenary building.

He walked in without hesitation, his entirely blue and form-fitting attire making him the center of attention as it didn't look like it gave him much protection in the least. His silver shoulder guards were perhaps the most acceptable form of protection that he had on him by local standards, but he didn't really care what they thought of his attire.

His capabilities were all that mattered.

At least, that was what he told himself.

"Hey, look at this guy? What kind of low rank does he think he is?" A middle-aged Adventurer sitting on a table sneered at Cu in contempt. From how out of focus his eyes were, he was clearly drunk from the mug of alcohol in front of him.

Cu allowed the insult to drop, but it wasn't the end.

"Bright and blue? He'd sooner be spotted and killed if he thinks such a combination is effective," an older Adventurer piped in with a low whisper towards a circle of friends. Cu had heard it though and he was not pleased.

Snickers and low whispers entered his ears, and despite what he said about not caring about his appearance, he was growing annoyed. One does not annoy a Beast lightly.

He did a quick scan of the room, feeling no signs of a threat from anyone present, yet they still had the gall to make fun of him?

His expression darkened, his lips thinning, utterly unamused.

To his credit, he held himself back and directly walked to the counter where the desk lady greeted him. She was wearing a clean apron and had her blond hair tied up into a neat braid that was swept to her side. She was admittedly pretty, but Cu had seen better in his teacher. Especially, when said woman would remind him of this fact when she kicked his ass up close and personal in a spar.

"Welcome, what can I do for you?" The receptionist was reserved, treating him cordially.

"I want a job," he said straightforwardly.

"No problems fellow Adventurer," the woman tipped her head lightly to the left. "Please select a task from the bulletin and I'll register it under your name."

Cu looked at the list of missions assigned and pinned on a board at the back of the room in thought. One problem that he had was that he couldn't read the language.

At the very least though, the numbers were recognizable.

He got the receptionist's attention and pointed at the mission that had the highest bounty straight away. "I want this one," he said with confidence.

The receptionist's eyes widened for a moment before she looked at him strangely. "Sorry, dear Adventurer, but only those of Platinum Rank or Higher can take that mission." The receptionist pushed up her glasses and watched as Cu stood frozen.

"Ranking?" Cu asked dumbly, earning him a round of laughter from those around him.

If it was mercenary job back in his home country, there was no such thing as Rank. A mercenary would take the job and either get it complete, die trying, or abandon the request.

Still, for others to laugh at him? A vein twitched over his head as he glared. What did Ranking matter if he could literally wipe the floor with every bastard in the room?

In the end, the receptionist explained to Cu the Adventurer's Ranking system which consisted of Copper, Iron, Silver, Gold, Platinum, Mithril, Orichalcum, and Adamantite Ranks. Copper was of the lowest rank, and that was the rank Cu was forced to start with, earning him another round of laughter when Cu looked as if he'd just swallowed a fly.

Worse, when he saw that he was ranked even lower than the people that were ridiculing him, his mood plummeted further.

A Copper Rank could not take missions above his or her designation to avoid death and casualties. Which was why when he looked and asked for the descriptions of the missions he could take, he nearly exploded out in curses.

"Help till a farm?" His eye twitched, a sneer making its way onto his face. "Look for a missing pet?"

He was far above this menial sort of work. He had literally just crushed an army several days prior and now he was being reduced to this? It was hard for him to accept, and he considered just doing the higher-ranked missions anyway. Unfortunately, he couldn't read the details and asking the receptionist to read it out would not only make him look uneducated, but it would be fairly obvious what he was intended on doing.

Didn't that mean that he had to start honestly from the bottom despite his skills? His mind blanked.

Cu's reactions were interesting, and with nothing better to do in the Adventurer's hall, the other Adventurer's were making fun at his expense.

Cu looked more and more like he would not be able to contain himself for much longer, and only one person appeared _utterly_ terrified at the prospect.

 _Do these fools not know what they're doing?!_

A man dressed fully in luxurious black armour from head-to-toe who had come with the same intentions as Cu to be an Adventurer stood petrified. The woman next to the armoured man stared in confusion.

The man was none other than a Player of YGDRASIL by the name of Momonga, later changed to Ainz to represent the Guild Nazarick. Ainz realized for the first time, that his decision not to be careless in the New World that he found himself in was the correct choice.

After all, there right in front of him was Cu Chulainn, a sub boss from Midgard's Land of Shadows expansion pack, and the man seemed far from happy.

* * *

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 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


	17. Heroes of the Capital: Part 1

He'd never been much for city life, but staring out at the vast sea of bustling people before him, Gemas Hawthorn was momentarily at a loss for words. He was roughly five-foot eight-inches and didn't stand out much in the crowd, so his temporary daze was not noticed by the majority of onlookers. Moreover, his dirty-blond hair cropped close to the sides and slightly longer at the front was common amongst most humans.

In short, he tried to make his appearance as utterly 'normal' as it could be.

He was an agent of the Queen, and had worked his way up to his current standing from the moment he had gotten involved with the Eight Finger's syndicate in Northern Roble during the Shrush-Demi Human invasion, but that wasn't something that he wished to dwell on. The past was the past, and the present was the present which was why he was inwardly struggling.

He grunted, adjusted his darker coloured attire and made to walk somewhere less crowded and noisy within Camelot's streets.

He needed to think long and hard.

Pulling out a piece of parchment from his burlap sack which he carried over his back, he made his way towards one of the many taverns present within Camelot. It was almost second nature at this point, and no he wasn't exactly a drunkard. Taverns were the best locations to garner information and at the same time, he could always rent a room to muffle out the din of the noises around him.

As he walked into the tavern, his ears were immediately blasted by roaring laughter and the clinking of beer mugs. The only oddity in the room was that both commoner and Nobleman were present in the same area.

Frankly, the tavern's commodities and services were cheap, which allowed even poor sods and commoners to enjoy their own drink, but it was simply absurd how exquisite the ale, rum, and beer being sold was. Even someone like himself had never tasted such a brand with both quality and an affordable price. Of course, it was also because of this quality that the Nobles were drawn in regardless of how they felt about lowering themselves to drink with low-borns. At the very least, with the aristocracy spending time with commoners, the differences between the two sides was gradually closing. It didn't mater if one was a commoner or nobleman when drunk, instead they were all just light-weight bastards.

He digressed. His purpose in coming to the tavern wasn't to observe others.

He moved towards the counter and presented a finely forged list of documents pertaining to his current alias as 'Gemas Hawthorn,' a paper-pusher that had once served in the Queen's treasury. He'd forged the documents himself in the fashion of authentic Roble. There were no faults to be found on it as it was fairly simple for him to make when compared to how diligent he was when drawing out maps.

Still, he felt somewhat uneasy at the small smile that graced the Tavern owner, Lady Davinci's lips when she stared at the papers. She was a beautiful woman, and he wouldn't be surprised if her portrait could be sold on an international level, but here she was just running a simple tavern, though admittedly, he hadn't exactly browsed through what she was selling yet.

She wore a blue and red blouse whose tailoring seemed beyond anything he'd ever seen from a seamstress. It must have been made from a Grand-Master whose level he could only try to fathom.

"Is there a problem?" He asked gruffly, his uneasiness had turned into weariness in the ensuing silence. He was a man of little words, but it did not mean that he would just stare when things weren't going his way.

Davinci brushed back a lock of her dark hair which framed her face on either side and let out a small laugh. "No problems at all. Your papers said that you wanted to rent a single room, right?"

He nodded.

Davinci passed him a small key, numbered 007, which he took gingerly. It was the number of the accommodations that he would be staying in.

Just as he stepped forward to walk passed her and towards the second floor which housed all the rooms, he stiffened when he heard a soft whisper in his ears. "A fine hand you have, but your ink is still fairly wet. Perhaps leaving it by a fire to dry next time?"

He turned his head sharply to stare at Davinci who only winked at him mischievously in return.

T-This Tavern Owner, just what kind of person was she? He couldn't help but furrow his brows.

Wet ink? He'd forged the papers days ago and had even left it out in the sun for extra measure. Clearly her words were just a playful jab at him for something else that she'd noticed, but the fact that she _did_ notice may mean that she may be in the same field of work.

Taverns were locations where even the tightest of tongues could be loosened by heavy liquor.

Davinci was the Tavern Owner. She'd be around to listen to the worries and ranting of the people twenty-four-seven.

It was almost too ideal if he considered her to be someone like him. It was basically flawless, but where did she come from and could she be from a hostile territory?

He nearly stopped in his tracks to question her, but it was too late.

"Another drink Lady Davinci!"

"Yeah Yeah! Bring that Vodka stuff, my friend needs to try it!"

She'd already left to attend to the other customers.

He shook his head. Spy or not, he could tell with his experience that she meant no harm. In fact, he had seen the amusement in her eyes when he had stiffened at her words. An Ex-operative then, someone he may consider befriending.

"Hey stop taking away Lady Davinci's attention!"

"Will you not accept my marriage proposal today, Lady Davinci. My father's a Duke!"

Then again, women that were too beautiful were hard to deal with. He preferred his wife instead. Thinking of her made his expression loosen, but at the same time he grew pensive.

He needed to think.

He walked up to the second floor of the Tavern, entered his assigned room, and dropped himself over the fresh bed adjacent to a small desk.

To migrate or not to migrate?

Pavel's choice had been obvious from the moment he hastily moved his family out of Northern Roble and into Camelot. Pavel was telling him how his daughter Neia Baraja was giving him the silent treatment while his wife demanded an explanation as a result.

Gemas had conveyed his sympathies to Pavel but now had to consider his own plan of action.

Camelot was the safest land in all of Roble, and if the Evil Deities were returning just as the Holy Maiden had, then it was the _only_ haven in all of Roble.

He continued pondering over the matter. In truth, it was the entire reason that he had not yet decided to report back to Calca

He could understand why Pavel had been so adamant in his decision, but he was different from Pavel.

His wife, Selena Hawthorn was an Adventurer working across Re-Estize and the Holy Kingdom. She wouldn't just suddenly agree to change the location of their home without thorough convincing.

She had spirit she did, but it always caused him to worry for her at times as she mainly worked as a freelance Adventurer. She didn't have her own team and opted to employ herself as the vanguard of other teams.

He sat up on the bed, suddenly getting an idea.

Evil Deities.

Sacred Swords.

It was hard to truly comprehend the concepts.

Maybe if he went and talked to the Holy Maiden, he'd be able to make up his mind by getting a grasp of the situation. That, or he could try Davinci, she seemed like she knew more than she let on. Perhaps it was time to look at what products she was selling.

Information was always key, and he knew when and where to be decisive.

* * *

The amount of people that had migrated to Camelot was simply staggering. No matter where Shirou looked, the streets were filled and the houses were fully occupied. It was to the point that Medea and Merlin had begun to transmogrify Camelot's surrounding trees into wood cabins for living use. Many people spectating could only speculate about what tier of magic that they were using.

Unfortunately, the magic was on a level beyond their understanding.

It was only expected though that the Holy Maiden could employ such capable Magic-Casters.

Inadvertently, the image of Roble's Valkyrie that Agravain had imprinted upon the minds of the current residents only further solidified. In the same line of thought, it was also because of Agravain spreading such information that Anya and Eric were forced to restrain their grudges over the matter regarding their children. Only one of the three Southern Nobles that had led the southern army was largely unaffected by the new developments, and that was Nathan.

Nathan's daughter was kept captive by Merlin so she had remained fairly safe. Sure, Merlin wasn't someone Shirou actively trusted around women, but he gave the man the benefit of the doubt. Besides, Merlin was already having enough trouble with Scathatch's relentless pursuit.

A wry smile worked its way onto Shirou's face. Merlin was keeping very low profile at the moment, and for good reason. He shouldn't have enough time to flirt with other women when one was dead set on getting even with him.

Merlin was reaping what he'd sown, so Shirou largely stayed out of the matter.

Instead, he began to focus on his next plan of action, and that was something far more difficult with Merlin currently pestering him.

"The witch will listen to you," Merlin insisted, barring his way with a hand. "My clairvoyance predicts the future."

He raised a brow, thoroughly unmoved. He stared at Merlin flatly. If Merlin really could predict the future, then the man should know exactly what his answer would be. "Then what does your clairvoyance say now?" he said flatly.

Beads of sweat began forming over Merlin's brow as he answered rather awkwardly. "That no future is predestined?"

He shook his head. This wasn't something that he should be bothering himself with at the moment. Instead there was a more pressing issue that had his attention. He paused momentarily just as he was about to leave Merlin behind.

"On second thought, I could be willing to help if you happen to know what Nero and the others are doing?" He frowned uncharacteristically, a hand scratching at the back of his head.

Nero had left him a note telling him that she would be away for a while, and he was relatively okay with that, but that was only until he realized that it wasn't just Nero that had left. The others from the mausoleum had also began travelling out one by one.

He had no intention of stopping them though as he was gladdened that they were taking their own initiative to enjoy their lives, but there was something strange in their movements.

Cu went to E-Rantel.

Nero to the Baharuth Empire.

Gilgamesh and Enkidu on a Golden Carriage.

Scathatch safe-guarding the Mausoleum.

And the others dispersed elsewhere like a large net.

It was almost as if everything was being co-ordinated based on a plan and objective of sorts that he was made unaware of.

The fact that Merlin did not particularly agree to his offer immediately when he was basically dead if Scathatch catches him was enough of an indication. What exactly was going on and what were they trying to do?

Merlin ended up not telling him.

"Whatever could you mean?" Merlin furrowed his brows and feigned ignorance.

In response, he dropped the matter entirely. He would not get an answer from Merlin as he had already tried asking Agravain, Bedivere, Lancelot, and the other Kngihts of the Round who remained tight-lipped. Merlin not answering was only to be expected. Still, he had come close to getting an answer when he had asked Mordred. She wasn't a good liar in the first place, and he'd seen through her lie of not knowing anything in an instant. The level stare that he had given her was enough to throw her into a fluster in which she let slip a few trace words in her haste to come up with a reasonable excuse in which she had none.

She had run away, feeling mortified.

Mordred was probably his best bet to find out what was going on.

She wasn't exactly the most reliable Knight in regards to holding onto a secret and she probably understood herself best so she simply evaded the issue with a red face whenever he brought up the topic.

He had believed that Merlin was worth the try, but now that he thought of it, he himself wasn't adept enough at lying to be able to tell if Merlin was telling him the truth in the first place. Might as well leave the womanizer to his fate.

"Fate can be defied," Merlin spoke up, as if reading into what he'd been thinking.

His lip twitched in exasperation. If he could read the future, then why would he put himself in such a misfortunate situation?

"There are some things that must be done," Merlin nodded his head sagely. It was evident that despite the risk to his life, he not did harbour any regrets. "You'd do the same if it was Arturia, and no; deny it as you like, but my clairvoyance is never wrong."

"…" Crafty bastard, but Merlin basically just killed himself. "Then die."

If Merlin's clairvoyance was never wrong, then Scathatch would surely catch him one day.

"W-Well, there can be exceptions for a renowned Caster like myself," Merlin coughed into his hand and shamelessly pretended as if he had not erred in any way.

Unfortunately, he'd had enough with dealing Merlin. Speaking of which, the person he'd wanted to see was finally making her way back into Camelot's audience room where Merlin was pestering him.

Just as he noticed her, she noticed him, and Merlin saw him noticing her.

All three of their eyes seemed to meet at the same time.

Clairvoyance told Merlin what was just about to happen, and for the sake of his own future, he tried to change it.

"Surely this matter can wait indefinitely," Merlin raised his voice and tried to cover Shirou's view. "What the others are doing may just be a pleasant favour for you and nothing else."

Left unsaid, Arturia had warned Merlin not to tell Shirou about how the others were going around trying to establish a faction to quell the New World's conflicts. It was the fastest way to create a world without a need for Heroes where Shirou could finally lead a normal life. If Shirou ever found out, how could he possibly keep still? At the very least, a part of Arturia did not feel comfortable managing the Holy Kingdom Camelot by herself while Shirou went around helping everyone else.

Worse, what if he got hurt doing something stupid?

It was almost by instinct that Arturia had come to this conclusion. She'd woken up panting heavily one night to a dream of Shirou throwing himself in front of an enemy's sword just to save her.

He was a dummy.

A big idiot who didn't understand that she'd rather see herself hurt then him.

It was the first selfish thing that Arturia had ever asked of Merlin and her Knights, and all of her Knights took her order seriously.

Merlin knew if he let the secret slip, then it wouldn't just be Scatatch coming after him.

He'd be a dead man from all the ire.

"I'll talk, I'll talk alright," Merlin changed up his response when he saw that his earlier words were ineffective.

Shirou glanced at Merlin once, then directly bypassed him to stand in front of the person he wanted to question more. He didn't want to take the risk of Merlin giving him a plausible lie.

"Do you happen to know what happened to Nero and the others?" He asked Arturia directly. She had just walked into the audience room and had frozen from the moment she'd heard what he and Merlin were discussing.

It was suspicious, and besides, he'd never known Arturia to be good at lying, and it was trait that she shared with Mordred.

Her inability to hold her neutral expression was saying it all. She could be steadfast and firm in her decisions only because she believed herself to be in the right. What did it mean then if she was in the wrong?

Gradually, he could see the way her mouth slightly opened, then closed. She didn't speak though and was being strangely adamant with him. "They went out," she said evasively.

Finding no fault in her words, she straightened her back and tried to act natural.

"Where?"

She deflated in the next second at his question.

Her eyes seemed to be swimming indecisively in her pondering.

He considered pressing Arturia further, but relented when an Enforcement Knight walked into the room and shouted out a report. "An emissary from Northern Roble has arrived and wishes for an audience!"

Arturia visibly brightened. "Granted!" Her voice echoed in the air as she took off in escape.

Shirou was getting a strange sense of Dejavu at the moment.

In some ways, Arturia really was similar to Mordred.

Still, as curious as he currently was about the situation, if even Arturia was keeping the topic away from him, then why couldn't he just trust them rather than worry?

They were all Heroes in their own rights after all.

* * *

The Land of Shadows expansion pack was the literal bane of existence towards any undead, or demonic attribute Player in YGGDRASIL. The Raid Boss and sub Bosses in that zone located within Midgard had high hostility to any and all demonic creatures. In terms of lore, it was believed by the NPC's of the Land of Shadows that all undead and demonic creatures were beings that escaped passed the confinements of the Gate of the Land of Shadows.

Undead and demonic players agrroed the Raid-Boss of the Land of Shadows on sight or presence alone.

Just remembering his guild's first run through of the expansion left Ainz with a chill travelling down his back. They'd suffered a team-wipe in an instant after they'd encountered the keeper of the Land of Shadows, the Witch, Scathatch by chance. Her weapon alone had the ability to insta-kill undead with a single stab, and that wasn't even counting the countless runes and spells she had at her disposal.

They didn't even stand a chance.

Ainz recalled that he and his guild mates had only ever been able to clear the Land of Shadows by keeping low and resorting to surprise attacks. Otherwise, kill the boss before she could use her skills and the battle could be won. In fact, this was the winning approach. While one raid party distracted Scathatch, another raid party would be entirely made up of debuffers to keep her in a weakened state.

As a known World Enemy, Scathatch was a monster.

Ainz simply couldn't image what it would be like if she was actually around in the New World that he found himself within. Would she be just as over powered as she was before? Or would she be constrained without YGGDRASIL's system to provide her the status of Raid Boss? Either way, he did not wish to find out.

The fact that Cu Chulainn was around was enough of an alarm for him.

Factor in a mini-Scathatch and an almost uncanny survivability, and that was Cu Chulainn, the student of the Witch of Dun Scaith.

He wasn't as much of a monster as compared to Scathatch, but his legend alone inspired out of Celtic Folklore painted him as one of Irelands greatest warriors. It reflected in-game as it quickly became evident that he could be even harder to deal with than Scathatch at times. Almost always, whenever Scathatch was raided, Cu would be the main problem as he directly disrupted the parties made by the Players to aid his teacher.

His skills were relatively simple in regards to YGGDRASIL's mechanics, but add his skills and techniques together, and Cu was not a person to be taken lightly. He was considered the Land of Shadow's Sub-Boss. Almost unkillable too, like he had numerous lives. It was a running joke that he was Irish Hercules for this reason, and if Hercules didn't already exist in another YGGDRASIL expansion pack, perhaps it would have been funny, but Ainz digressed.

The game and reality had always been separate then, but right now, he wasn't so sure.

These fools in the Adventurer's building did not know just who exactly they were making fun.

Panic began to swell from within Ainz's being as he could see veins forming on Cu's forehead, but almost an instant later, his panic was forcibly quelled by his constitution, allowing him time to think clearly.

Cu was distracted, and he had not been noticed yet.

Ainz was also undead, and considering how actively Cu and Scathatch hunted undead in the Land of Shadows, he would do well not to get noticed. Gae Bolg, the spear both Cu and Scathatch used had an uncanny ability to react to demonic presences. In which case, he was fairly safe considering his quick equipping of a concealment item, but it was only a temporary measure. Worse, he turned to his side.

Narberal Gamma, one of the NPC's of Ainz Ooal Gown stared at him in confusion, her face tilted to the side. Her presence _wasn't_ concealed. The realization of a fatal error suddenly dawned on Ainz at that moment.

None of the NPCs in Ainz Ooal Gown had ever encountered any bosses from YGGDRASIL's expansion packs. Most of them had only been used to stand guard over the Great Tomb of Nazarick. She didn't know how deadly Cu could be let alone that she should have had activated a demonic aura concealment spell in his presence.

If Ainz had pupils at the moment, his eyes would be dilating as he saw Cu suddenly frown in his direction, the red spear hung loosely on his back thrumming with a faint red glow. Suddenly, the mockery directed at him didn't seem to matter to Cu as much as glancing around through the crowd around him.

 _Fuck._

Ainz had always been a cautious individual, and this aspect of himself had never changed.

The situation was beyond just bad, it was horrendous. As he had cast the spell [Perfect Warrior,] he had gained the attributes and stats of a level 100 Warrior, but in exchange, he could not activate any spells or freely use his mana for anything. His mana and mana regeneration were flat out at zero. He couldn't even cast a concealment spell on Narberal even if he wanted to.

He had to be quick.

In a single motion, he pulled out a bracelet from his storage and slapped it down onto Narberal's wrist. She nearly yelped in surprise if not for the utterly serious aura he was conveying through his body language. The bracelet was another concealment item.

Ainz was always prepared, or at least he tried to be. He knew the weaknesses of the [Perfect Warrior] skill, so he'd made preparations to accommodate before hand.

It seemed that he was just in time though as he noted the dull crimson hue exuding from Gae Bolg dwindle and disappear.

Still, this didn't stop Cu from pinpointing an exact location.

It was to Ainz's discomfort that Cu was now staring directly at both him and Narberal Gamma.

"We're leaving," Ainz was quick to say.

"Huh?" Narberal replied in response. In fact, Ainz didn't even give her much time to consider anything before leading her out of the establishment itself. "But Lord Ainz, didn't you want to complete an objective? Why are we being cautious of insects?"

Ainz didn't bother answering. It was only when he was out of sight of the Adventurer's building that he placed both of his hands on Narberal's shoulders and spoke to her solemnly in a back alley. "That was _not_ an insect." He didn't even bother correcting the way she called humans. "Did you see him? The one in blue?"

Narberal nodded slowly. Although she could feel from her inspection that the man in blue was somewhat formidable, but she didn't feel like he was worth having Lord Ainz pay such high regard towards. "Shall I crush him?" She couldn't help but ask, somewhat dissatisfied with the situation.

" _No,_ Do not approach that man without my permission," Ainz was particularly strict with this order. The grip he had over Narberal's shoulder even tightened somewhat to help convey his point. "You do not know just who it is that you're facing," saying that, he went silent.

He had wanted to be an Adventure both to gain information and to test the differences between the New World and YGGDRASIL, but Cu's presence made him more cautious. What if he wasn't the only one?

King Arthur of the Round.

Scathach of Dun Scaith.

And God's forbid, Gilgamesh of the Grand Treasury.

The fact that Narberal and all of the other NPC's in the Great Tomb of Nazarick had no idea of the capabilities of such strong bosses left Ainz greatly worried. Still, he would not back down from vengeance if any _dared_ harm the NPCs he and his guild mates had created together.

"We're going back to the tomb."

He was quick to make a decision.

It was time. Ainz Ooal Gown and the forums of YGGDRASIL had devised many strategies to deal with the various new Raid Bosses scattered around YGGDRASIL. It was imperative that he impart such knowledge to Demurge and Albedo to begin teaching the others for their own safety.

"B-By your command," Narberal stared at the utterly serious expression on Ainz's face and couldn't help but admire the Leader that had not once abandoned them in the Great Tomb. "Narberal Gamma hears and obeys."

She lowered her head, and staring at her, Ainz couldn't help but pat her head gently like a parent to a child. Narberal's face flushed, but she seemed exceedingly contented.

In the next instant, Ainz dropped his [Perfect Warrior] skill and directly used his magic to travel back to the Great Tomb with Narberal.

Moments later, in the same area that they had just left from, Cu appeared, his brows furrowed in thought.

Was he wrong?

With no proof, he could only speculate.

* * *

 **Heroes of the** **Capital** **Interlude 2: Emperor?**

No matter where a person travelled throughout the New World, the heat of the Sun's ray's shining down from the sky would always be consistent. Near the Baharuth Empire, it was even more so due to the fairly low topography of the region. It was in the midst of spring nearing summer and the weather was causing the area to became fairly humid.

Farmers and the common folk were wiping away their sweat from their faces using the scruff of their worn tunics while a carriage rolled by unimpeded over the countryside. The crest of the Royal family was emblazoned on the upper left segment of the carriage doors, and a small platoon of armoured Knights rode alongside the carriage's base at a leisurely pace.

The carriage was on a return trip from a short delegation that had to be attended to auction off several plots of land originally belonging to several deceased Nobility.

The Baharuth Empire had gone though a bloody purge to eliminate the cancer that was the corrupt Nobles dragging the Empire down by the ankles. Almost all of the Empire's upper management were uprooted and executed for their atrocities and all that was truly left were the reparations for the affected Knights and commoners.

An Emperor's job was never over. More so for the most talented, and Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, the current Emperor of the Baharuth Empire was one such man. At twenty-Two, he'd ruthlessly eliminated all corrupt Nobles and was in the midst of rebuilding the infrastructure of the Baharuth Empire form the ground up.

He did not recruit through social standing or reputation, but through ability and achievement. A commoner could be just as good as a Noble. If one was skilled at fighting and leading, then he'd make the individual an Adjutant of the army, even going as far as commander.

Jircniv did not discriminate, and was a just yet practical ruler. Still, the rumours of the Bloody Emperor were rampant among the common populace, and it wasn't something that would change quickly. After all, he'd figuratively drowned the capital of the Empire in a sea of blood.

None who'd participated in illegal or corrupt actions were spared, and that included his own kin.

He was perceived as Heartless, Cruel, and Inhumane, and yet none of his subordinates spoke ill of him even in private.

He was a devoted ruler. One with a vision to better the Baharuth Empire, and for that he would need help.

 _'A bunch of incapable scatterbrains.'_

Inside the travelling carriage, Jircniv was resting his chin over his hands in contemplation. By killing off almost all the High-Ranked nobility, he was basically running the Empire through the sheer strength of his own intelligence and capability. In truth it was exhausting, and he had hoped that he could find a suitable secretary amongst his allied nobles during the delegation to help ease the burden.

Unfortunately, he was wrong.

It wasn't that he doubted their loyalty, but because they simply were too reliant on him to do anything remarkable. What he needed was an individual that would both criticize his management plans, and offer alternatives when necessary. As prideful as he was in his ability, he could admit that there was no such thing as a perfect ruler.

He could make mistakes. He was fallible.

He sighed ruefully, but it didn't matter if he found anyone yet or not. He was still young and had plenty of energy. He could handle the Empire on his own for the time being, but damn it if he wasn't getting annoyed with all the documents that needed his approval.

Moving on, the heat of the day largely unaffected him.

The inside of the carriage was climate controlled by magic, making the interior always remain at a comfortable temperature regardless of how it was outside. It was why Jircniv could still remain dressed in his Emperor's robes. It was a long garment fashioned in red and gold that resembled the old Praetor attire of an ancient civilization known as Rome. An interlocking bronze-coloured vest attached to long black cloths hung from over his shoulders, similar to a mantle.

A crown was adorned on his head, partially hidden by his blond hair which was kept slightly curled on the bangs.

He was not particularly exited to get back to his office within the palace, but he wasn't one to slack either.

He knew when and where he could relax, and his carriage was one of the only places where he could keep to himself.

The journey back was something akin to a breath reliever for him, but he soon noticed something odd. Why did the shaking stop?

Even if the inside of the carriage was insulated with magic, it didn't mean that the wheels and terrain that the wagon was rolling over would remain flat at all times.

He arced his head to peer out the window, and sure enough, the scenery around him was not moving.

"Why did we stop?" He called out absently to the coachman driving at the front.

"Well, the crowds are in the way, my Lord."

The response was swift. The carriage had already travelled the majority of the distance to the capital of the Baharuth Empire, and had already entered its streets. Buildings of brick and cobblestone were on either side of the road the carriage was on.

"Hmm," he hummed, somewhat taken aback. "Do they not see the crest of the Emperor?"

The reason the Emperor's crest was displayed on his carriage was to reveal his identify as the Emperor. Naturally, none in the Baharuth Empire would dare obstruct his carriage's path lightly. He was too much of a busy individual, and he could not bother being delayed too often.

Still, this was the first time he's ever encountered such a situation, his curiosity was piqued as he waited for the coachman's answer.

"They appear too distracted." The coachman's voice came from the front. "I've already instructed a man to check what's going on though."

"Good," his reply was curt. He didn't exactly mind the wait anyway. It would be a small reprieve from all the work and regulations he had weighing down on him in the Royal palace, Arwinter.

"So? What's got the crowd so captivated?" He couldn't help but voice his interest when the scout returned and gave a report to the coachman.

"It seems to be a wandering 'Emperor,' my Lord."

"Oh?" The carefree expression on Jircniv's face vanished in an instant, his mind shifting into contemplation. "Which Kingdom or nation does this esteemed traveller hail from?"

The Baharuth Empire was not expecting foreign delegates or emissaries in the time of Harvest in preparation for Winter. Moreover, with his current reputation as a vile and cruel individual, the surrounding countries and Kingdoms were still hesitant in the stance they had towards him.

"That's the thing, my Lord," the coachmen seemed to momentarily hesitate. "The majority of the people around think that the person is just a Performer. Calling herself an Emperor is too ridiculous after all without a known country to back her, and yet, her cheerful and vibrant personality is apparently quite endearing to the crowd. The people seem to adore her."

"A performer?" Jircniv's interest only heightened further. Most performers he'd ever seen growing up had hardly been able to entertain him. What was to say that the performer crowding the streets wouldn't be any different?

"Indeed, my Lord. A popular one that refers to herself as an Emperor," the coachman verified.

"Hmm," Jircniv hummed again before coming to a decision. He sat up straight. "I want to take a small detour."

His meaning was obvious.

Without any other prompting, the escorts around the carriage made their presence known and pointed towards the crest of the Emperor displayed on the carriage for the civilians. One by one, the residents crowding the street noticed the symbol and deferred themselves to the side in respect for the Emperor of the Baharuth Empire.

It was only then that a direct line of sight was made available.

The carriage rolled forward and came to a stop just shy of the small open circle where the performer was performing.

Jircniv could not see her yet, but from the moment that he had opened the door of his carriage and stepped outside, he was momentarily stunned at the rose staring directly back at him.

The parting of the crowd had been obvious, and the carriage even more so. Just as he was looking at her, she was looking at him.

Eyes the colour of emeralds.

A fiery red dress, inlaid over a pure white gown that hid only what was necessary, if only barely.

And a small smirk that seemed to light up her face.

It was the first encounter, and one that Jircniv would never forget.

The flower that he saw on that day.

He blinked, and the world seemed to spur into motion once more, the performer before him coming to a halt at his presence. He shook his head. He wasn't one to get overly distracted by beauty. Furthermore, it was inexplicable, but he felt a vague sense of comradery when he stared at the woman before him. From one ruler to another, yet this was definitely not the case.

She called herself an Emperor, but where were her escorts? Her loyal Knights?

All that she had was the vibrancy of her attire, and the disposition to earn the hearts of a crowd. Admittedly, even he had lost himself if only temporarily.

"Might you introduce yourself?" He asked.

The woman regarded him slowly, the mirth in her eyes evident as if she was enjoying being the center of attention- The only light or beacon to look at as was proper.

"I am Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus, an Emperor!" Her shout resounded far and wide, and didn't fail to enliven those around her.

He could see that this Nero's personality was contagious. The onlookers and even his own subordinates couldn't help but let out small grins of amusement.

Truly a skilled performer even when she wasn't acting.

She looked at him as if waiting for him to reciprocate her grand introduction.

Hah, perhaps it was fine to play along. He brushed back a lock of his hair and assumed his aura as the leader of the Baharuth Empire.

"Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, also an Emperor," he spoke with dignity befitting his status, but the way the crowd began murmuring about the 'Bloody Emperor' dimmed his mood. No matter, the crowd and those below him did not need to understand his sacrifices and losses.

And yet why? Why was she staring at him like that?

The two stared at each other, and for some inexplicable reason he felt like he saw something flash within Nero's eyes akin to recognition. "I see, a fellow Emperor." She pursed her lips before simply shaking her head and lifting her lips back up into a small smile. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance then."

Jircniv found it hard not to stare at her too long.

Still, for Nero's sake, it was better for her if he tried to dissuade her from using false titles.

"Forgive my assumptions then, Emperor Nero, but I had thought that you were just a performer?"

He meant it as a slight jab as a small lesson not to impersonate an individual of such high standing, but Nero appeared largely unaffected. Or maybe she was just pretending?

She blinked at him. "Umu. I am a performer, the best of the best," she puffed out her chest and flourished one arm out in Jircniv's direction. "The Flower of Olympia!" She announced boisterously.

Jircniv had never been amused at any performer before, but Nero was different.

He changed his mind. She truly was entertaining. He suddenly felt all the stress he'd built up gradually leaving him as he stared at her face which was a mix of seriousness and playfulness. It only helped that she was perhaps the most beautiful women he'd ever seen in the Baharuth Empire with an upbeat personality that the heat of the day seemed unable to take away.

He felt his lips curling upward, but there was nothing that he could do to stop it as rose petals suddenly appeared at the end of Nero's declaration. What kind of props was she using? He was already delayed. Might as well go along with it.

He walked to the stepping ladder of his carriage, took a seat, and placed a hand beneath his chin. "Very well, Flower of Olympia, might you grace this Emperor with a performance?"

As soon as the words left his lips, the coachman on the driver's seat whispered to him heatedly. "Are you truly sure that you wish to make the remaining Nobles wait any further?"

Jircniv merely grunted at the coachman's words and shooed the man away. If the Nobles who declared allegiance to him could not even stand to wait for him, then there was no point in bothering with such pointless talks anyway.

He was more focused on Nero in front of him than anything else. From the moment he'd asked for a performance, something about her changed; the air around her becoming somewhat solemn.

She danced around the open square, twisting on the balls of her feet as she began to speak aloud.

"Power was everything." Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper. "With power came ability, and with power came leadership to right the wrongs of the world, or rule over it as its tyrant."

She seemed wistful, almost reminiscent. A figure of glass, brittle, yet pristine.

"A tale of a tragic ruler."

She raised her hand, rose petals dancing to the rhythm of her feet.

"Family, death. Brothers killing brothers, fathers killing sons, mother's weeping in their graves."

Patricide, Fratricide, the struggles of a ruling family.

She danced around faster and faster, never straying, never faltering.

"Plots, conspiracies, betrayals."

The hem of her dress resembled a blooming peony as she swirled, tilted, and gestured with her arms. It was captivating, breathtaking.

"Merits, honour, glory."

She spoke of battle, of the wars one faced and the majesty found in victory.

"Hardened hearts. The people's despised, the people's admired."

She spoke of hardship and the resolve to see through it until one's efforts came to fruition.

"Then, finally,"

Her steps led her to an abrupt stop directly before Jircniv, her expression forlorn, unwilling.

"Abandoned." The words sounded hollow.

She smiled lightly, almost feebly.

"For a love and devotion that none could understand."

She walked away, balancing on her heels to resume her original position.

Meanwhile, Jircniv's mind was whirring rapidly.

The things that Nero had said at the beginning, they resonated so deeply with him that he found it difficult for Nero to understand such complexities in the ruling-class. Family could at times mean absolutely nothing in order to obtain the throne, and often times, he had to harden himself to kill even his own kin.

From the way that Nero spoke and performed, it was almost as if she was talking from experience. "You, who are you really?"

She looked at him, and him at her.

It was almost as if no one else existed.

"Umu," she inclined her head.

"I am Nero Claudius, and like you assumed," she bowed lightly, one hand at her waist while the other was left stretched out behind her.

"Just a simple performer."

She returned his earlier jab.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! And thanks for all the Support!**

 **Next Update: Vasto of White (This was one of the closest polls that I've ever seen in a while)**

 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


	18. Heroes of the Capital: Part 2

Well, there goes that.

Cu grunted before he scratched absently at his temple in annoyance.

So much for being an Adventurer.

He was currently wandering aimlessly through the crowded streets of E-Rantel while lamenting the fact that he was probably going to get scolded if he returned empty handed. His teacher probably wouldn't say anything too annoying, but Agravain was going to be a pain.

Agravain reminded him of the intellectual types, the ones used in war as strategists or logistic trackers, but slightly worse. After all, Agravain could be considered a kind of government official as he worked directly under the famed 'King Arthur.'

Results were what Agravain wanted, and surely, he'd be far from pleased to hear the failure of an operation before it even began.

But who's fault was it really?

Cu inwardly sneered as he recalled the way the 'top tier' Adventurers in E-Rantel's guild building had belittled him. It showed just how inexperienced and inept they were to not understand the difference in capabilities.

Given the choice, Cu did not want to go back and register. As much as he said that he could endure the ridicule, his patience and pride as a Warrior Hero of Ulster would not allow it.

Agravain had given him a mission and an in-depth method to reach the intended goal, but Cu decided that he'd go about it his own way.

By the time that he had left the Adventurer's building, he already decided that he didn't need a guild ranking to begin with. Hero's were not made from fancy titles, but through achievement. Therefore, when his senses alerted him to something odd about the black-armoured warrior and his companion, Cu decided to investigate.

In some ways, his suspicions were correct. The black armoured warrior and his companion were able to completely evade his tracking.

Thinking back to the last spot in which he had tailed them, Cu already understood what must have had happened.

[Teleportation.] A Fifth-Tier spell that allowed the Magic-Caster to teleport over a distance away.

 _Did they notice him?_ Cu was certain that they must have, but why avoid a confrontation?

At that moment, he sensed it.

A feeling of a strong adversary that had eluded him throughout his entire time in the New World. If everyone in the Adventure's building appeared to be nothing more than buzzing pests, than the black-armoured warrior was a ferocious beast that deserved attention.

Cu's intuition told him so.

As to why they avoided conflict, perhaps it was too early, or they weren't sure if he had companions, either way, he'd failed to track them.

 _What a waste._

Walking around E-Rantel's streets, Cu still couldn't help the grin that formed over his face. Frankly, it scared other passerby's away but he hardly noticed while caught up in the thrill of finding an interesting individual.

Don't get him wrong, he was never one to be an Adventurer. He was a Warrior through and through, and that was why the thought of battle excited him.

Next him, he wouldn't lose them, but in any case, it was time to return to reality.

As he was no longer going to be an Adventurer, he wasn't certain about what he was going to do right now. A little breather was what he decided that he needed, but perhaps even something so small was still too much to ask for.

"Damn thieves!" A furious cry resounded from just off the streets.

It was loud enough that it gave Cu pause.

In his wandering, he had arrived at a point of town where he was no longer quite sure of where he was. Behind him he could hear the distinct bustle of the market place, but at his nearest vicinity, all he could see were winding roads lined with residential buildings made of stone and brick.

A vast network of alleys existed within the residential complex whose general atmosphere was both dark and dreary. Mud, dirt, garbage, filth, and rodents scurried beneath the shadows of the adjacent buildings.

It wasn't a place that he wanted to see two children in rags being beaten on by a middle-aged woman using a metal broom. The woman wasn't tall, nor were her looks above average, rather she seemed kindly at first glance, but looks themselves could always be deceiving. She had a basket overflowing with goods which she carried beside her. It was torn in a few places, yet overall, it still appeared to be in stable condition to carry the fruit within.

The two children each carried what looked to be a single apple in their hands, possibly something that they'd stolen. Even while the woman beat on them with a broom that she must have grabbed from the alley, the two children protected their individual apples by curling up their bodies.

Welts and thick red bruises were forming on the children's arms and backs, and yet the woman simply would not relent.

At this point, it wasn't really about the children stealing that was causing the woman to continue her assault, it was the vague sense of satisfaction Cu could sense that the woman was feeling. It was to the point where the woman was focusing her attacks on the children's legs to prevent them from running.

Then why not scream for help?

He could see it on their faces despite their situation. Stubbornness and tenacity, fitting only for the best of warriors.

They would not beg.

They would not cry.

Simply because they'd been forced to understand on a fundamental level that those actions would not get them anywhere. Only through persisting and constant determination would one be able to get anywhere in life.

Cu clicked his tongue, his current mood about finding a suitable opponent deflating.

 _'Sorry, I killed your watch dog. So, from this day on, until you rear a new one, I will be that watchdog.'_

A memory flittered across his mind that was not once programmed into his character's NPC database.

Young unblinking red-irises stared back at the owner of the Hound of Culain.

He would owe no debts.

He would own over his own responsibilities.

 _So, don't look as if you've given up._

The expressions of the two children were growing hollow, the light in their eyes gradually fading, and yet still they did not utter even a scream or moan.

Suddenly, the woman beating down on the children stiffened, a chill traveling down her back as she experienced what it truly meant to face down a wild beast, a Devil. The broom that she had been in the midst of swinging down was caught squarely by rugged and callused hand.

" **Oi** ,"

The piercingly red eyes that stared down on her left her trembling by instinct. It was like she could see it, the maw of a feral hound inching towards her throat like a vice.

Death.

Murder.

The two words repeated in her mind to the point that her legs gave out on her and she fell back onto her bottom. Looking up at the monster before her eyes, the sheer indifference and frigid countenance boring deep into her psyche left her deeply shaken.

He would kill her.

He would have no qualms or regrets.

"W-Who are you?"

" **Shut up.** "

The woman closed her mouth in an instant.

From the moment that she noticed the red spear held in the man's hands, she had choked up. I-It was evil. She could see what looked to be the vague images of howling phantoms over the crimson surface.

She swallowed audibly, but didn't dare move until the man once again sheathed his spear.

"Leave," the man's tone was somewhat subdued. "Do not force me to kill a woman unarmed."

The woman stared at the broom she was holding in her hands and hastily tossed it aside before running away with her basket of food.

Cu spat on the ground, a hint of contempt on his face.

It didn't matter which kingdom he visited, there would always be scum not worth protecting even if he was Hero. Now then,

He shifted his gaze to the two children shakily getting up onto their feet while wearily glancing at him.

They were young, no more than ten years old, but the way they stared at him made him realize that they had no intention of thanking him. The older of the two seemed to try to step in front of the younger, but the younger child refused adamantly until it ended up with the two facing him side by side.

Beaten and bruised, they stood their ground even when it looked as if they were utterly terrified.

They must have seen his earlier display. That, and the bloodlust coming off of Gaebulg wasn't something that any normal citizen could bear.

Sizing up the two, they appeared to be twins. They kept both of their hair cropped somewhat short, and their deep grey eyes reminded him of the colour of a wolf's pelt. Still, no matter how she tried to masquerade as a boy, the younger child was definitely a young girl. It showed in the way the older brother was being protective even when the two were getting beaten by the woman.

Cu eased the atmosphere by coughing into his hand and crouching so that he was eye-level with the two children.

He grinned. It wasn't as if he had no experience with living off of the streets. After all, when he was a child, he had run away from his parent's house to join the troop at Emaine Macha.

"Next time, try to choose a better mark," he pointed at the children's scrawny arms. "At the very least, work on gaining some strength first."

The two kids looked at him in confusion, and it wasn't until he pointed and started laughing at the older brother's tiny biceps that he noticed an embarrassed flush come to the older child's face.

"T-They're still growing," the kid huffed.

The younger sister's lips almost quirked upwards, but she caught herself and maintained a neutral expression. She bumped her twin brother's side moments later, and the two resumed their guarded stance. The grip they had on the apples that they were holding didn't relax in the slightest, almost as if they were guarding a treasure.

Poverty was everywhere.

Cu had such a thought, but he didn't let it show on his face.

He stretched an arm behind him to stick his hand into his travelling pack. Fumbling with his fingers, he pulled out a few pieces of dried meat he'd taken out for provision. Strong as he was, he still had to eat.

"Hungry?" He offered both children a handful and took notice of the way the two began to salivate.

"M-Meat," the younger sister couldn't help but mutter in a daze, her lips quivering.

The older kid didn't say anything, but Cu could tell that his reaction was no different from his sister. In a complete reversal of what had happened before, this time, the older brother nudged the younger sister's side to keep her alert.

Cu could understand why the two were being so guarded against him. He was a stranger that they had just met. There was no way that he could be trusted so easily.

Regardless, he was a grown man, and none of the two could react before he instantly placed the pieces of dried meat into their arms.

"…" the younger sister looked entirely dazed at this point, and for the first time since the conversation began, the older twin's expression lightened.

Cu straightened his back, and backed off by a couple of feet to allow the children to relax.

He shrugged at the two children's questioning stares, but was caught off guard when the older sibling suddenly bowed. It was an unexpected development as the kid did not seem the type to lower himself to others. From the looks of it, even the younger sister was taken aback.

"Your strong," the older twin stated.

"That I am," Cu did not deny the truth. "Strong enough that I don't have to steal."

Stealing was dishonourable, but it wasn't as if Cu couldn't relate to different people's circumstances. He was just giving the two a little lesson so that in the future the two kids wouldn't find themselves at the wrong end of the stick again.

Unknowingly, his words caused the younger boy's determination to solidify.

Cu rose a brow as the older twin approached him despite the fear Gae Bulg obviously invoked in him. It was enough to raise Cu's evaluation of the child. Soon enough, the sister came over as well.

Cu crossed his arms. "So, what do you want?" He asked bluntly.

The older child looked up at him in earnest. "Please teach us to be strong!"

For a moment, Cu thought he'd heard wrong, but no matter how much he blinked the two brats would not disappear from his sight. He only had a single response. "Bye."

He began to walk away.

He wasn't exactly his teacher, and he'd never taken any students before either. Moreover, he was busy. There was no time to take care of other things with the responsibilities he had over his shoulders.

Unfortunately, he underestimated how determined the older twin was.

"W-Wait!"

The two children chased after him in earnest. Of course, if he was being serious, they would never have had been able to catch him let alone keep up with him, but damn it all!

He was starting to get annoyed.

 _If you were that injured than why keep chasing after me?_

Cu's brow twitched as he monitored the condition of the two brats behind him. The older twin who had shielded the younger twin from the brunt of the woman's attacks was hobbling on a swollen foot. The stinging bruises over the boy's body weren't helping either, but the fool kept pushing himself.

Finally, when the boy collapsed unconscious to the bitter end, and the sister's eyes widened in panic, Cu's feet forced him to stop. He sighed while scratching the back of his head.

"Well, fuck me," he muttered lowly.

He moved back to the two children and watched as the younger twin tensed. However, he easily bypassed the younger twin and directly carried the older twin on his back. There was no way that he could just leave the two alone on the streets; one unconscious, and the other still injured.

What kind of Hero would he be if he did that?

His teacher would probably wallop him while Shirou may look at him in disappointment, both of which weren't favourable outcomes.

Well, screw it.

He'd rather by scolded by Agravain, and besides, Agravain didn't exactly specify a time limit for his task, so he might as well go at his own pace.

"W-What are you doing?" The younger twin stuttered out nervously while he hoisted the older twin on his back.

He looked at her and grunted.

"I can't just leave you both here, now can I?" Repositioning the older twin on his back, he motioned towards the younger girl. "Now which way's home?" He asked.

The younger twin opened and closed her mouth, but eventually started limping back in a certain direction. Cu's conscience constantly pestered him as he watched the little ten-year old limp, so in a single grab, he hoisted the child up with his free arm.

The younger twin's face flushed red, but Cu would not put her down despite her protests.

"Just shut up okay? I won't hurt you, so relax. You and your brother have endured enough."

The younger twin bit down on her lips, and stared at Cu with mixed feelings. She swallowed and began to squirm, but there was no way that she could escape Cu's grip. Eventually, she just pointed in a direction, and Cu began walking.

As it would turn out, he was being directed towards the slums. It was a part of E-Rantel that no tourist would ever journey towards, let alone bear to live within, but the younger twin called the area 'home.'

The wooden buildings were dilapidated with broken holes shabbily repaired by covering them with linen cloth. It wouldn't shield the homes from the rain though, and Cu couldn't help but speculate how leaky it would be in the midst of a storm.

Regardless, there wasn't anything that he himself could do about the situation. At least that was what he believed. Only the government and economy could hope to change the living standards of an area. As for him, he'd just focus on what he could see right before him.

A Hero that saves everyone was without a doubt an individual to be admired, but at the same time, it was pitying. One would never find any rest, and worse, there would be no solace to be found at the end of that path. Therefore, that road had to be destroyed to produce a world where Heroes were no longer needed.

Shirou was admirable, but every Hero deserved a fitting end.

It was the one shared goal amidst the residents of the Mausoleum, a building that was the final resting ground of the greatest of individuals.

If a Hero was meant to save others, then who would save the Hero?

This was the crux of everything. To repay Shirou for everything that he'd done, and for giving everyone the chance to live their own lives once again.

At least for Cu, that was the reason that he chose to fight and act out in secrecy under Agravain's instructions.

"Take a right over there," the younger twin's voice registered in Cu's ears, and his body moved on auto pilot.

By the time he turned the corner and arrived at the place that the younger twin called home, he momentarily paused.

It was an abandoned church.

Despite everything, a part of him just couldn't help but find the place to be unpleasant. It wasn't because of the Church itself, but because of some other aspect telling him that he'd once experienced something less than pleasant in a similar setting.

The frown that found its way onto his face was not noticed by the younger twin.

Instead, the younger twin was more focused on the group of other children rushing up to her in concern. They all didn't appear any older than six, and most of them were glaring at him for some reason.

"N-No, he didn't hurt us," the younger twin was quick to diffuse the situation. She tried to squirm out of his grip, and this time he allowed her.

Landing on the ground, the younger twin continued to pacify all the other children.

Where were the adults?

Cu was busy observing the surroundings, but there were no signs of any guardians whatsoever. He soon came to a single conclusion.

Orphans.

It wasn't uncommon for unwanted children to be left at the door steps of a church, and considering the situation of the slums, there was no use for further speculation.

He watched silently as the younger twin broke apart the apple and dried pieces of meat in her hands and began distributing them to the other children. They were all mostly pale and skinny, but somehow, they were getting by on just food scraps.

Still, even with the food that the older and younger twin brought, there was clearly not enough to go around.

He considered emptying out his travel pack of provisions, but there were perhaps more than a dozen hungry children around him. There simply wasn't enough, and it left a bitter taste in his mouth.

He didn't like what he was seeing.

Gradually, he placed down the older twin on the ground, drawing the attention of the younger twin who ran up to her brother in concern.

Cu stood up moments later and nonchalantly swung his spear over his shoulders before moving in the direction of the forest he could see near the outskirts of the slums.

"W-Where are you going?" The younger twin called out to him.

He grinned as he stared down at her. "Hunting," was all that he said.

Under the eyes of all the children, he literally 'vanished' with a burst of speed that left gales of wind at his wake.

The younger twin winced and shut her eyes tightly from the breeze, but by the time she opened them again, Cu was already gone.

The one thing that Cu was glad that didn't change about the New World was that it wasn't too different to the Irish land of his memories. The forests, the plains, the air, his experiences of the past were not wasted.

As a Mini-Boss in YGGDRASIL, Cu had many passives that he could rely on, one of which was [Greater Perception] which allowed him the ability to detect Players should they enter a certain range of him. In YGGDRASIL's forums, this was known as Cu's agro range where no amount of stealth skills would allow the Players to draw any closer before battle. In this case, Cu's [Greater Perception] manifested in the form of honed instincts. He could tell what was around him by just a glance or a sniff in the air.

Based on his level, and the level of the beasts and animals around him, nothing was deemed too dangerous for him too hunt within the forest. Within minutes, he found a suitable quarry.

It was a massive boar the size of a small building. In YGGDRASIL's terms, they could be considered Demon Boars that averaged around the level of 30, with some being even greater. They roamed the lesser plains of Midgard near the Land of Shadows and were a familiar prey that Cu had no qualms with dealing with. In fact, in his younger days, he even specialized in taking down the big ones with his [Beast Slayer] skill.

In any case, he got ready to strike.

He crouched poised by the top of a tree and tightened his grip around Gae Bulg. A second later, he tossed it forward like a javelin and directly stabbed through the boar's hide and body.

Cu didn't give chase. He didn't have to. After all, he was just waiting for the beast to bleed itself out.

In due time, he came upon the boar's corpse, Gae Bulg having struck directly through the boar's heart and killing it.

Pulling the spear out of the boar's body, he was now left with the task of lifting the carcass back. Due to the weight of the body and its size, he wouldn't be running any time soon. Therefore, he lifted the boar onto one shoulder and began his walk back.

By the time he got out of the forest and began walking through the slums, the sight of him single-handedly carrying such a ginormous boar attracted everyone's attention. However, he hardly noticed as the shadow of the boar's body and its long fur obstructed his view.

He soon reached the abandoned church where the children and younger twin stared up at him in shock while he tossed the boar to the ground. The large thump shook the ground in the vicinity, a small depression forming over the long grass.

Even as Cu started a fire and began roasting the boar piece by piece, the children were all still in a daze. It wasn't until the scent of cooking meat entered their noses that they snapped themselves out of their shock.

"T-This is," the younger twin visibly swallowed, a growl coming from her stomach. The other children around her were no exception aside from the still unconscious older twin who was tucked aside into a bed.

He gestured invitingly towards them. They hesitated at first, but after he broke of a branch from a tree and used it as skewer to pierce the roasted meat and offered it to them, they lost their hesitation.

The children crowded him all at once, fighting for the first piece of meat until Cu grew annoyed. "There's enough for everyone, so stop fighting," he chastised. In fact, there was more than enough.

The boar was huge, and its meat plenty.

Cu handed out roasted piece after roasted piece, inwardly sighing in regret that his journey to become a renowned hero in E-Rantel had devolved into him being a simple cook. At the very least, he prided himself in his roasting skills.

"Aren't you going to eat?" He kept the offered skewer of meat in front of the younger twin who was eying it, but not grabbing onto it.

"W-We can't repay this," she scratched at her arm in anxiety.

"Damn brat, you have spirit don't ya?" Cu bumped her head with his fist. "Do I look like I want anything out of you all? So, just shut up and eat."

The girl placed her hands on top of her head where Cu had hit her, but there was no pain which showed just how much Cu had held back. She pursed her lips, and eventually took the skewered meat into her hands.

She sniffled silently as she began nibbling. It was the first real meal that she'd had in weeks, and rough as Cu was, she could feel his honest sentiments in helping.

She swallowed the food in her mouth, and took several consecutive bites.

"Careful now brat, or you'll choke," Cu warned her in earnest, but she didn't care and continued eating. She knew that if she stopped or slowed her pace, then she'd start crying at the kindness of a stranger.

Unheeding of his warnings, Cu could only watch as all the children stuffed their faces. Meanwhile, Cu took notice of the other residents of the slums gathering around the location.

He looked once at the large boar beside him, and then at the hungry residents, and shrugged. Moments later, he began roasting more and more pieces which he then placed out for the others to take.

They stared at him dumbly in incomprehension, but all was made clear by the sound of his voice.

"Well, what are you all waiting for? There's plenty to go around."

One resident came followed by another until the entire area was filled with starved people and families. Cu accommodated all of them, and inadvertently facilitated the start of a rumour in the slums.

That a Saint had suddenly come and taken residence in the abandoned church.

There was more than one way to grow famous. It was just that Cu never considered what kind of effect he would have by choosing to help two random brats in an alley.

Now if only he could stop people from spreading the name of 'Father Cu,' around in the slums. He was not, and will _never_ be a priest.

It was just a preference.

The title of a Fake Priest, oddly just creeped him out.

* * *

 **Sorry for shorter chapter! I intended to have another Break section after Cu's bit, but I didn't have enough time to include it. This update had been scheduled yesterday so I already ended up delaying by a day so I at least wanted to get something out. I've been hit with allergies lately and sneezing, congestion, and a mild headache basically just crippled my writing pace. As it stands, my allergies are getting better and I should be back to par within another day or two. So let me just repeat again that I'm sorry for the smaller chapter.**

 **Thanks for Reading!**

 **Next update: Holy man of the Church Creek**


	19. Heroes of the Capital: Part 3

Was the situation really so severe?

Hidden within the great plains nearest to the Forest of Tob, was a Dungeon renowned throughout YGGDRASIL to be unconquerable, the Great Tomb of Nazarick. The Dungeon itself was comprised of several floors each guarded by what was known as a Floor Guardian, max level NPC's that could solo entire groups of Players seeking to Raid the ten-floored Dungeon.

Albedo was the Guardian Overseer of said Guardians, but even she was left at a loss at this moment.

"I don't believe this," she bit down on the nail of her thumb and grimaced.

She was a beauty of a woman, pale skin, refined features, and impeccably endowed. She had silk-like obsidian coloured hair that draped past her waist and accentuated the loose pure white gown she wore on her person decorated by intricate webs of golden thread that reached to the hem by her feet.

"Lord Ainz, weary of mere humans?" She gritted her teeth. "Preposterous, and why aren't you saying anything Demiurge? Does this not infuriate you?"

Demiurge was the Floor Guardian of the Great Tomb of Nazarick's Seventh Floor. He was a type of Demon known as an Arch-Devil, a Class of Demon far beyond the lowest level. He wore round speckled glasses and an orange striped suit with matching dress pants. His hair was slicked back, almost as if waxed, giving him a refined appearance despite his crueler personality. A long silver metallic tail stemmed from his lower back.

Of the Floor Guardians of Nazarick, Demiurge was perhaps the most intelligent, Albedo a close second. However, while Albedo tended to lose her reasoning when flustered, Demiurge always maintained his objectivity.

"Try to understand a little better and think for yourself," Demiurge pushed up his glasses with the tip of a finger. "Beings that surpass the strength of our Lord Ainz? As unfathomable as it is to believe, perhaps this is definitely some sort of test?"

"Test?" Albedo echoed Demiurge's conclusion.

She wasn't the only one.

Other than Albedo and Demiurge, several other Floor Guardians were present with the exception of Victim, and Shalltear BloodFallen; one of which was prohibited from leaving their floor, and the other sent out on an assignment.

Of those present were the Twin Floor Guardians, Aura and Mare Bella Fiora, and the Guardian of the Fifth Floor, Cocytus.

Aura and Mare were a pair of Dark Elves each possessing dichromatic eyes, one eye the colour green, and the other blue. Their skin was of a light brown, and their ears were pointed and slightly hidden behind their wheat-coloured hair. Aura styled her hair in a wilder sort of fashion while Mare possessed a clean bob-cut.

The most striking visual appearance of the two, was that Aura was a girl who wore boy's clothing, and Mare was a boy who wore girl's clothing. This minor detail was in part due to the questionability of the taste of their creator, Lord Bukubukuchagam.

The two of them were not the brightest of individuals, but that could be attributed to the fact that they could still be considered little children in the life-span of elves.

Cocytus on the other hand, was simply not a Floor Guardian used to thinking. He was a Warrior-Class, someone who enjoyed the prospect of battle and fair duels where honour was at stake.

Cocytus, figuratively speaking, was a combination of a sleek armoured Mantis and an Ant. His exoskeleton resembled the pale blue of ice while icicle-like spikes lined his entire body; they were most pronounced at the tip of his long tail which was twice as long as his height stemming from his lower back.

He, just like Mare and Aura were listening attentively to the discussion between Albedo and Demiurge. Hard as it was for them to admit, they felt jealous that they could not better understand Lord Ainz's intentions like Demiurge and Albedo could.

Aura clicked her tongue. Her personality was far more brash and unrestrained compared to Mare who was the exact opposite.

Ignoring Aura, Mare, and Cocytus, Demiurge directly addressed Albedo's question.

"Think about it, Albedo," Demiurge began to grin. "Lord Ainz placed great importance on the strength of these 'Bosses' but did you not remember what he did afterwards?"

Aura who was anxious not to fall behind in the conversation immediately butted in.

"He wrote us all several pages of information?" Aura Bella Fiora spoke up while waving a thick stack of papers in her hands.

Demiurge did not rebuke Aura for her interruption. To his fellow Floor Guardians, he showed genuine kindness.

"Precisely," he answered gently, going as far as to nod at Aura's direction. At the very least, she looked sheepish for her behaviour.

It was good enough. She had several years to learn proper manners anyway.

Demiurge began to pace.

"Lord Ainz insistently warned us of the danger, but in these papers that he gave each floor guardian, there exists a detailed analysis of each 'Boss,' that may or may not exist in this New World. Could anyone hazard a guess for what this means?"

Demiurge stopped and raised his own copy of the papers Aura had waved around.

Surprisingly, it was not Albedo who answered first despite her intellect.

It was someone else.

"Lord Ainz. Has. Personally. Fought. With. Them. Before?" Cocytus's gravelly voice resounded. The words came out in pauses due to the opening and closing of the large mandibles over Cocytus's mouth. Said mandible would have no trouble crushing or snapping a man's hands.

Demiurge nodded. "As expected of the sharp intuition of a warrior. Lord Ainz must have had fought them personally before and triumphed. Why else would the papers here include the details of the weapon these 'Bosses' used if not for Lord Ainz plundering them from their dead corpses?"

None of the NPC's of the Great Tomb of Nazarick were aware of what was known as a 'User Forum' where the experiences of players were frequently shared. The various Raid Bosses in YGGDRASIL had raised a mass flurry of heated debates among the Player community. Ainz and his guild were of course included in such discussions as avid Players themselves.

Unfortunate, Demiurge and the others had no such information, leaving them only to speculate on a believable outcome.

"As expected of Lord Ainz," Albedo clasped her hands together while her shoulders relaxed in relief. "He would never lose to anyone!"

"Naturally," Demiurge scoffed. He then moved to the next obvious conclusion. "Now why do you think he would warn us to be careful before then giving over these vital pieces of information? Such actions are contradictory are they not?"

Albedo's eyes suddenly widened in realization.

"Oh, I see you understand now," a light flashed over Demiurge's glasses.

Neither of the two spoke thereafter, as if sharing a quiet understanding.

The situation made those who were only listening in to gradually become uneasy due to the prospect of misunderstanding Lord Ainz's intentions.

"Hey Albedo, what's he talking about?" Aura scratched the back of her head while Cocytus stood accented his agreement.

Albedo's expression grew neutral before she slowly began to smile. "It's quite simple really. We must eliminate them."

Demiurge nodded in approval. "Lord Ainz said that he had the aid of the other Supreme Beings as well as other groups of Players to defeat these 'Bosses,' but are we any different? We are the Floor Guardians of the Great Tomb of Nazarick, we ourselves are at the max level and easily able to overcome invading Players. If we use the strategies that Lord Ainz must have had spent a majority of his precious time on, then we of the Great Tomb would be no different from this so called 'Raid Party' that Lord Ainz spoke of."

Demiruge crossed his arms behind his back and spoke. "Besides, from the description that Lord Ainz gave about a majority of these 'Bosses' personalities, most of them are what are considered to be Heroes." The tone of Demiurge's voice made it clear of his distaste.

He glanced at Albedo and the others.

"Undoubtably they will interfere in Lord Ainz's ambition to oversee this world as its Supreme Overlord. Therefore, I ask of you, as the beings that Lord Ainz places the most trust in, what must we do?"

The room fell silent, before a massive two-and-a-half-meter frame took to action.

"I. Will. Head. Out. Immediately. For. The. Glory. Of. Nazarick." Cocytus spoke no more and turned to leave; however, Demiurge was the first to stop him by blocking the exit.

"Don't be so reckless Cocytus. Lord Ainz gave us a warning." Demiurge advised. "These 'Bosses' are undoubtably strong, so like Lord Ainz said, we must remain cautious. Lord Ainz must have had foreseen our reaction by continuing to insist to be weary. Your actions are only proving Lord Ainz's foresight correct."

Cocytus stiffened visibly, his shoulder slumping.

"My. Apologies." Puffs of cold hoarfrost exuded from Cocytus's body as he released a breath. "So. What. Would. You. Have. Us. Do?"

Demiurge began to grin before raising the papers Lord Ainz gave each individual Floor Guardian. "We know the enemy, but before engaging personally, we must understand to what extent their abilities will harm us. As none of us have ever personally encountered a 'Boss' battle before, it is most efficient to send in a probe."

Demiurge shifted his attention to Aura and nodded. "From what Narberal Gamma reported, both she and Lord Ainz were to act as escorts for some potion merchant after finally registering as Adventurers, correct?"

Mare was the one who nodded in Aura's stead as it was he who had received the information first. "Y-Yes," Mare stuttered.

"Good," Demiurge uncrossed his arms. "Lord Ainz will not be around should this operation end in failure. A simple probe this might be, but it's already assumed that none of us present wish to show Lord Ainz a failure of any kind?"

Albedo and the others were in unanimous agreement.

Demiurge raised an arm and activated a personal skill.

[Evil Lord Summon]

From a magic circle that appeared before him, an Evil Lord-Class Demon manifested. This Demon would lead the mission for its death would not mean anything in regards to the Great Tomb. Demiurge himself could just summon another one fifty hours later anyway.

Demiurge then turned towards Albedo.

"Please gather personnel from the Great Tomb proficient enough in the lower tier skill [Create Undead]. This operation is just a probe, therefore, Nazarick must not suffer any losses."

"Naturally," Albedo agreed before using her administrative abilities as Nazarick's overseer to contact the necessary individuals.

Thereafter, Demiurge fell silent in thought.

He was looking at the information of a specific 'mini Boss' that Ainz had provided.

'Cu Chulainn: The Hound of Ulster – Weapon – Extremely Lethal to Undead and Demonic Enemies.'

Were these 'Bosses' really as difficult to deal with as Lord Ainz had spoken of?

Demiurge pushed up his glasses and was the last to leave the meeting room.

Even so, for the sake of Lord Ainz's ambition, they will inevitably perish.

For the Glory of the great Tomb.

For Lord Ainz, the Last of the Great Supremes.

* * *

Near the Mountainsides of Southern Roble, a political agreement was quickly being reached under Arturia's supervision.

Emissaries from Northern Roble had arrived with the intention of inviting a representative from Camelot to meet with the North's ruling monarch. At first, they had wanted Arturia to come, but faltered when they discovered that she was in fact, the Valkyrie of Roble. Of course, they'd obtained this information from hearsay and were skeptical, but it was clear that a riot would ensue if they persisted in having Arturia act as representative.

To begin with, in the hearts of the people living within the Kingdom of Camelot, Arturia as the Valkyrie of Roble was a National Hero whose status did not pale to the ruling Queen. To have Arturia go, it was the same as having Royalty act as a representative.

It was an insult.

The High Nobility understood this, and those in their ranks quietly disclosed the information to the public, leading to the current tension in the air.

Relations with the North had always been on a narrow tightrope, and the peace was basically just formality alone.

Where was the North when the South needed help the most?

Where was the North when Evil descended upon the masses?

What right did the North have to demand that Roble's Valkyrie that had pushed back the dark be made a representative beneath the ruling status of the Queen?

Preposterous.

Camelot's new citizens originating from Roble's southern populace would go directly up in arms on Arturia's behalf.

The situation being as it was, the emissaries were beginning to feel pressured and no longer looked at Arturia to be a prime representative. They turned their attention instead to a Knight that stood by her side.

Shirou felt his expression begin to fall.

Meanwhile, Arturia quietly slipped out when it looked like Shirou was distracted by dealing with the emissaries. In the end it was decided that she would send him as Camelot's representative with a man named Gemas Hawthorn as an escort.

They would be set to leave in a couple of hours, but for the time being, Arturia was making her way towards a certain location. Making sure that she was alone, she entered a secret chamber located deep within Camelot's castled walls.

Inside were all the sub-bosses of the Holy Kingdom of Camelot in YGGDRASIL, Agravain, Tristan, Mrodred, Lancelot, and so on.

"You looked like you've worked hard, my King," Agravain was the first to speak while Lancelot offered a chair for her to sit on.

She only nodded in thanks to Lancelot before sighing.

To be honest, she was finding it difficult to keep the operation between the Heroes of the Mausoleum a secret from Shirou, but since she knew that it was for Shirou's sake, she forced herself to put up with it.

"Cu and Nero should have had reached their destinations by now, therefore, it shouldn't take that much longer for them to act," Agravain was straight to the point, yet he frowned moments later.

There had been clear signs that Shirou had been going around trying to discover what was going on, and if this behaviour continued, Agravain feared that Shirou would soon discover everything.

Knowing Shirou's level of intelligence though, that result may occur sooner rather than later.

It didn't occur to Agravain or the others in the slightest that Shirou was not actually the smartest of people. In fact, their assumption that he 'was' was only putting more pressure on Shirou who didn't how he could go about explaining.

Regardless, this was Shirou's problem to solve.

In the meantime, Agravain and the rest remained alert regarding Shirou's intellectual level.

"There's no point to this operation if Shirou himself gets involved, therefore we have to distract him," Agravain came to the obvious conclusion. "Shirou's probably going to be Camelot's representative for Northern Roble, correct?"

Arturia nodded in response before subconsciously smiling affectionately. "He really doesn't know how to decline."

Noticing that she was being stared at, Artruia promptly coughed into her hand and smoothed her facial features. "What of it?" She asked to shift the attention away.

"Hopefully the duration will last several days or weeks," Agravain commented. "However, we can't just leave Shirou to guard himself. It's unbefitting of our creator, therefore, there should at least be an escort."

Everyone present, agreed on this point. However, the problem was just who to send.

Shirou had been getting curious lately about the movements of the NPCs in the Mausoleum so it was all but assumed that he may or may not press the escort for information.

In that case, they needed to send someone who Shirou absolutely would not be able to get any information out of.

Almost subconsciously, the gazes of all the Knights present in the room began to gravitate towards a single individual who was slowly beginning to grow flustered.

"M-Me?" Mordred pointed at herself in disbelief. "W-What do you all expect me to do? I-I was the one who nearly gave it away and was forced to hide away from his for days."

 _And yet he didn't press you even if you were the easiest to get information out of._

Agravain had already taken everything into consideration.

He ignored Mordred's reaction and instead nodded while placing a hand on her shoulder.

"That. Act exactly like that. Just be yourself and it will work out fine. With our Lord's level of intellect, he would definitely be able to see through an act, but you, you just might be able to pull this off,"

In the process of acting, there was a hidden realm beyond the stage of perfection. That higher-level playing field was a stage known as the 'Natural' stage. A stage where one's acting had transcended beyond the notion of acting and became neigh impossible to discern.

That was Mordred.

Of course, it had to be Mordred.

Agravain was trying to compliment Mordred, but it was only making Mordred angry.

Mordred's lips twitched, but despite wanting to punch Agravain in the face, she was entirely taken aback when even Lancelot and the other Knights seemed to be of the same opinion as Agravain. Worse, Arturia wasn't saying anything despite looking exceedingly reluctant. Arturia herself may have had been the best choice to distract Shirou, but she was needed to maintain order and appearances in Camelot as the Kingdom's sovereign. Besides, Agravian had been informed of how weak Arturia's defences were in regards to Shirou. She _definitely_ couldn't be sent.

Mordred on the other hand?

"Stop looking at me like that, its creepy you bastard," Mordred slapped Agravain's hand off of her shoulder and directly clicked her tongue.

"Yes! Yes, it's this behaviour exactly. You appear as if you're truly unwilling to take on this burdensome task, but in the end, you'll still do so anyway."

"F-Fuck off," Mordred felt her face flushing, and she abruptly turned away. After all, Agravain had hit the nail on the mark and it was mortifying that none of her fellow Knights disagreed with Agravain's assessment.

She began to brood to herself, her bangs shadowing her eyes.

W-Was she really this simple?

She grimaced, but immediately plastered a look of indifference on her face when she noticed the approval in Agravain's eyes.

Damn bastard. Leave me alone. You already made your point.

She was about to kick the ground in frustration, but again thought better of it.

"I'm leaving," she couldn't stay here any longer. It was like every action that she took was cementing Agravain's observation of her. "J-Just call me when I'm needed."

She looked as if she had wanted to curse, but faltered when her gaze met Agravain's again.

She left soon after.

Agravain smirked. This was why Mordred was the best Knight to go.

Don't get him wrong, but Agravain knew that Mordred wasn't exactly the best actor nor the best in keeping a secret. However, even he found it difficult to press her for information when she looked entirely flustered. Doing so would be like an adult bullying a child. That was the 'true' sure-fire method of having Mordred accompany Shirou on the trip to Northern Roble.

A true stroke of genius.

For the first time in a long while, Arturia and the other Knights recalled just how devious Agravain could be.

In this case, maybe it was for the best.

The rest of the plans could be initiated once Cu and Nero finished up on their ends.

* * *

Agravain was going to give him an ear-full, Cu was sure of it.

Three weeks.

It had passed three weeks and he had done absolutely nothing but keep the company of children and hunt for the people of the slums of E-Rantel.

Of course, he _did_ try to look for something productive, but there was nothing else that he found that he could do. His initial plan was to become an Adventurer, but just recalling his past treatment after walking into the Adventurers guild angered him to the point that he felt that he would end up being a murderer.

An Adventurer was definitely out of the question at this point.

It didn't help that he still wasn't proficient in reading.

It was the little things that one would realize in the future, that were the most important.

He'd taken reading and writing for granted, and now that he found himself in a world where he could truly be considered 'unlearned' it was hard not to look like a fool rather than an experienced hero.

Small steps.

That was the only way he decided to do things.

He wasn't averse to the quiet life to begin with. Hell, he'd spent an entire day fishing by the stream that ran near the slums. Still, he preferred action over everything else, but stretching it on for weeks was pushing it too far even for him.

Yup. Agravain definitely wasn't going to be pleased. Knowing this, why should Cu bother to hurry writing an activity report?

He stared at the carefully written notes laid out in front of him in scraggily print with utmost seriousness.

The two kids that he'd helped three weeks earlier, the boy Chris, and the tomboy, Charlotte were trying to butter up to him.

They wanted him to teach them how to use a spear, but the most they'd gotten him to do was craft them their own pair of wooden practice spears.

Teaching them? Did he look like the kind of person who was good at teaching?

Still, that didn't stop the two brats.

The papers that he was reviewing were the common language of the New World that Charlotte and Chris were somehow educated in despite living in the slums. They wrote it for him after noticing his lack of education, but he still didn't teach them how to use a spear yet.

In short, Cu had spent the better most part of three weeks learning to read.

On paper, his track-record and accomplishments, at least in his opinion, looked like utter shit.

It was an embarrassment that he didn't want to disclose.

He'd be damned if that boisterous and air- headed Nero was doing better than him.

Therefore, he just had to hurry up and learn the language so that he could peruse the higher-level contract missions in the Adventurers guild and swipe one that seemed the most suitable. He was already imagining the faces of disbelief that those ignorant bastards who had laughed at him in the Adventurer's hall would have when he completed even the hardest of missions.

His lips curled upwards, but faltered when he looked out the window of the room that he was residing within inside the abandoned church.

He had an entire view of the Church's front yard where Chris and Charlotte were busy swinging around the wooden spears that he had made from broken piece of wood in the slums.

Chris and Charlotte were twins, with their uniquely silver hair cropped short in a bob-cut that reached just passed their ears. Both of them had silver eyes and relatively short for their age, likely due to a lack of a good diet, but Cu's interference was changing that.

In the past three weeks, both of the two children had grown at least an inch from the bountiful food he had taken the time to hunt for them and the rest of the people in the slums.

Cu had yet to notice it over the shock of being referred to as 'Father Cu,' but people were starting to look at him differently.

Charlotte and the other children in the orphanage were the same.

Then again, he couldn't stand just occupying a room in the Church and doing nothing. Therefore, he may have had just 'stolen' a few dresses and shirts from time to time from the wealthier people in E-Rantel and the bastards who made fun of him in the Guild building for the children to wear. Of course, the sizes were different, but if anything, Scathatch's Rune magic which she had imparted to him was useful in its versatility.

Posters of a wanted Thief subsequently begun hanging over E-Rantel's market places and buildings, but Cu felt like he had nothing to do with it.

Moving on, the sight out of the Church's window that caused Cu's mood to deflate was what Chris and Charlotte seemed to think was Spearmanship.

He had said that he didn't have the time nor patience to train anyone, but there was no way that he could just turn a blind eye when everything that he saw out the window was wrong.

Their forms were horrible, and rather than using a spear, it was more like they were just waving around long sticks. What kind of enemy did they think that they could take on with those kinds of postures and attacks?

To begin with, they were swinging too wide.

Spears unlike swords or blades, weren't entirely made up of metal to avoid overweight of the weapon. The shaft itself was generally composed of wood or some other material and there-in-lied a weakness. When parrying or blocking against other weapons, only the bladed tip of the spear must be used lest the spear be snapped or cut in two.

It was called, optimum distance. A vital aspect that all weapon-users must first master with their respective swords, spears, or sabers.

Spears were mid-range weapons; therefore, it was best to keep enemies away by a certain degree. Swinging wide while inexperienced was a mistake. Should the enemy dodge or parry the spear's length, it would be impossible for a greenhorn to take back control.

Thrusting and positioning was the simplest choice for beginners. Don't let them get close, and should one miss the initial stab, us footwork to maintain optimum distance.

His teacher Scathatch had drilled this fact deep into his psyche back when he was still using a practice spear by traumatizing him.

He shuddered uncharacteristically, but pretended it didn't happen.

His body moved subconsciously thereafter to alleviate his irritation.

"That's not how you hold a spear you dumb brats."

He appeared by both Charlotte and Chris with a burst of speed, startling the two but not caring as he directly corrected the mistakes he had seen. He placed both Charlotte and Chris's hands around shoulder-width on the base of their wooden spears. He then adjusted their stances so it didn't look as if they'd tumble at the slightest touch.

He wasn't teaching them, he convinced himself.

He was just trying to get rid of his annoyance.

Nothing less, and nothing more.

He crossed his arms and scowled.

"Now start again."

Chris and Charlotte's expression brightened instantly, and the enthusiasm that they showed reflected in their earnesty to better themselves. Oddly, the two felt warmth inside them no matter how strict or stern Cu was in correcting any mistakes that he saw, either through harsh words or physical involvement.

It hurt sometimes when he knocked them over the head, but there wasn't enough strength in the blow to do anything substantial, and this was saying a lot. Charlotte herself had seen first hand how Cu had enough strength to lift a massive boar single-handedly.

Why was he being so nice to them? No. it didn't matter. At the very least, the way she was looking at him now was the way a child would their guardian.

For some reason that fact eluded Cu who could not understand what role he was subconsciously filling for a group of children with no parents.

Chris wasn't saying anything, but he was probably thinking the same thing as Charlotte.

Charlotte pursed her lips, and tentatively called out at the end of practice.

"F-Father Cu," she said.

Cu stiffened immediately, as if he'd blown a gasket, but looking as the target of his ire was just a little tomboy, he quelled his anger down to a simmer.

"Damn brat, I told you not to call me that," he rebuked. "I. Am. Not. A. Priest."

Charlotte gathered her courage.

"T-Than c-can I call you papa?" She asked.

Cu blinked in dumbfoundment.

He then clicked his tongue while looking at the hopeful expression on Charlotte's face. She looked like she'd be devastated if he refused. Even Chris was looking over in interest.

He shrugged. "Do what you want kid."

"T-Then, papa?"

Cu's brow twitched, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as 'Father Cu.'

Suddenly, Cu became very much aware that Charlotte and Chris weren't the only ones around to hear him say 'do what you want.' A whole bunch of other kids were suddenly looking in his direction too.

This time, before they could ask like Charlotte, Cu up and left in a heartbeat.

Too many things were happening to him right now that would probably have some of his acquaintances laughing their asses off.

How many more weeks would he have to put up with this?

Reading.

He was determined to be able to read by the next couple of days.

* * *

In the slums in E-Rantel, Charlotte was making her way through her daily routine and was just on her way back to the Church, a skip to her steps.

Neither she nor her brother, Chris, had anything close to what could be considered a parent. Neither a father nor a mother, but Cu, no matter how abrasive or grumpy he was, was the closest thing that the two children ever had to a father figure.

He grumbled and complained that he was wasting his time, but in the end, he still looked out for them.

Charlotte felt a warmth inside her that had been absent for the majority of her life in the slums. It was a warmth known as expectation that there would be someone waiting for her when she returned home.

It had always been she and Chris that went out of their way to steal and provide food for the other orphans in the abandoned Church, but now, there was always plenty of food to eat. The first time Cu had hunted for them and brought back a massive boar, her stomach had been so full that she thought that she would burst, and yet she regretted nothing. A full stomach was a privilege that she never thought that she or the others around her would ever receive.

Therefore, it was truly unfortunate that Chris had been unconscious at that time. All he got to eat were the left overs that she'd tucked away for him. Cu gave the rest of the boar meat to the other residents of the slums.

Even if Cu continued to insist that he was jobless and doing nothing productive, he was already a Saint in the eyes of the people of the slums. Food was life, and he gave it away without any concern. Moreover, Cu had this weird type of magic that he called 'Runes' which he used to mend broken houses and restructure the Church so that it wouldn't be so cold inside anymore.

Charlotte looked far healthier than she'd ever been in all of her life. Tied carelly behind her back, was the wooden spear that she'd been using to practice along with her brother.

The pointers Cu gave were still fresh on her mind.

Cu didn't know it, but the average resident of the New World were not privy to [Skills].

The Spearman-Class for example could not just be instantly learned by picking up a spear and randomly poking with it. That sort of system didn't exist. Instead, one had to learn how to use the skill attributed to a certain class to be able to attain the first level of said class.

It was a mentorship type of system.

In Cu's case, what he imparted wasn't [Basic Spearmanship], but something else known as [Rune Witch's Spearmanship].

Charlotte had no idea what sort of Spearmanship the skill fell under, but if it was the one that Cu used, then all the better.

She didn't share the same blood, but all the same, she believed in a single phrase with all of her heart.

Her Papa was the strongest.

She'd accept no other answer.

Even when Adventurers turned a blind eye to the circumstances in the slums, Cu alone used his strength for the sake of others. That was what made him strong. Stronger than any Mithril Class or higher.

Charlotte balled her hands into fists.

The action was an odd yet endearing sight due to how small she looked. She still had baby fat around her face, making her features more rounded, her cheeks slightly pudgy.

Then again, no one paid particular attention to a kid that came from out of the slums anyway.

She was hardly noticed by the residents of E-Rantel if at all, treated mostly like air.

In this case, it suited her just fine.

She wasn't going to the main streets anyway but just back home closer to the hills and the distant forest. It had been her task today to forage for some wild berries and mushrooms to eat for vegetables as she didn't feel comfortable letting Cu do everything.

Nonetheless, she noticed something odd today.

Generally, there, was an open entrance that led from the slums towards the streets of E-Rantel. It was a large walled gate. However, today it was firmly shut closed with the guards stationed by the doors yelling out panicked orders. They must have seen something from atop their look out posts dangerous enough to seal the gates.

Wait.

Charlotte took a moment to look at the sealed gates, and then towards the residents of the slums who still had no idea of any danger.

T-These bastards.

They were leaving the people of the slums to die from whatever approaching danger would come.

Chris who was walking alongside her noticed this point as well and he immediately grew gloomy. "Cowards," he gritted his teeth. "Still, it may just be another pack of wild wolves or beasts. They should leave after we hide for a couple of hours."

Charlotte didn't respond to her brother.

Unlike Chris, she had grown curious and decided to see just what exactly the guards had seen to shut the gate closed. She had climbed atop a nearby ramp and stiffened abruptly.

"T-Those aren't wolves," she stammered in fear. "U-Undead. T-They're heading towards the Church."

"What?" Chris's eyes widened. He quickly went to look for himself but was appalled at the sheer number that he could see in the distance.

Grasslands surrounded almost the entirety of the area around E-Rantel with only a sparse few hills to decorate the landscape. The slums however, just so happened to be both adjacent to the forest and parallel to a large hill near the furthest embankment where a small stream cut through the foot of the hillside.

The elevation of the slums was lower than the hill that ran parallel to it where the Undead were marching from. They looked like a small colony of black ants in the distance, but just the thought that so many were coming was terrifying.

Groups of wandering undead weren't uncommon in the New World partly because of Explorers entering and releasing them from buried crypts and tombs, but such a vast number was unheard of before.

"T-The Adventurer's Guild! W-We have to call for help," Charlotte stammered out.

Chris however shook his head.

He simply pointed at the locked gates to the main street and didn't speak any further. There was no time to call on the Adventurers. The guards of E-Rantel who'd seen the disturbance must have had already sent news anyway.

Unfortunately, the fact that the gates were still closed meant that the guards had no intention of aiding the people of the slums until the Adventurers arrived.

As it was now, hardly anyone in the slums could see the approaching danger. Only the guards stationed near the main-sector of E-Rantel's main street had a better view, and their response was to lock up the gates.

Chris expected no other treatment.

Most of the residents who were better off treated those that lived in the slums with sheer disregard, yet in any case, living in the slums was still better than being a slave.

"We have to warn everyone," Chris's tone was hurried.

"B-But there's no where else for us to run," Charlotte replied back. "The main city's gates are sealed and the undead won't tire. We'll eventually get caught without any shelter. The open fields and hills are suicide."

"T-Then we have to protect them, everyone," Chris gathered his resolve and held steady to his spear, moving to intercept the horde of undead.

"W-Wait! Where are you going!?" Charlotte grabbed her brother's arm.

"Father Cu taught us to fight. If we don't protect our younger brothers and sisters in the church now, then who will?" Chris's arm was shaking, but he still dragged his feet forward regardless after coaxing his arm out of Charlotte's grip. "We have to be strong. Isn't that what we promised each other so that we can protect everyone else? It doesn't matter what pain or hardship we go through; we are the eldest and must bear the responsibility."

Charlotte bit down on her lips, and soon nodded.

Her brother was right.

Life would always be hard.

Yet it didn't mean that hard work and determination couldn't change anything.

"Alright, lets do this." Charlotte resolved herself and tightly grabbed onto her wooden practice spear.

She considered calling out to Cu for help, but a part of her didn't want to see the one person who actually seemed to care about her and the people of the slums perish at the hands of undead.

No.

She couldn't bear that thought.

Not when she finally felt what it was like to have a father.

She pursed her lips and quickly followed after her brother who began moving ahead of her.

By now, the Undead had already crossed the apex of the hill, making them visible to those in the slums.

Expectedly, panic began to ensue, but with nowhere to go, some just gave up in helplessness, while others sought shelter in their dilapidated homes. Neither option would bode well, but they were far too fearful to do anything else. Only a scant few chose to arm themselves with whatever they could get their hands on, yet none showed any confidence.

The first place that the undead would reach would be the Church, but there was no way that Charlotte or Chris would risk the undead getting that close.

They decided to fight the undead by the wooden fences surrounding the perimeter of the slums, however, their expressions fell when they realized that some beast or animal had completely destroyed everything.

There was nothing to act as a barricade of any sort.

Charlotte and Chris looked at each other.

They would have to fight on their own while out in the open.

"G-Get behind me," Chris stammered. "W-We just have to fight while defending each other's backs."

It was hopeless.

Charlotte only gave her brother a weak smile, but she didn't say anything in disagreement.

This was how their life had always been anyway.

Hardship after hardship.

She brushed back her hair with a hand, and readied herself.

The undead were nearing their location.

As they did not want their younger siblings that they were looking after in the Church to get involved, the two had ran out to face the approaching enemy head on. The only thing that Charlotte hopped for was that her younger foster siblings would be smart enough to hide in the Church's cellar just in case.

Nonetheless, neither she nor her brother had the time to give a reminder.

They were coming.

Fifty meters.

Forty.

Thirty.

Charlotte felt her mouth drying. Up close, the undead looked nothing like the wave of ants that they had appeared like before. Most of them were even armoured and didn't look anything like the average undead who were only equipped with broken weapons and tattered rags.

"E-Elites?" Charlotte whispered out her sole observation, a shudder travelling down her back.

Why?

Why were they coming here?

Why now?

She swallowed down her bitterness, but still felt like screaming. The one time that she and her brother's life was starting to grow better, a tragedy ensued to crush them.

"Hey Charlotte," Chris called out just when the undead reached twenty meters. "If I told you to run away right now and leave me, would you listen to a stupid brother's final request?"

Charlotte glared.

Chris laughed hollowly. "I guess not."

Ten meters.

"Get ready. Just like Father Cu taught us."

Legs forward, arms bent, spear at the ready.

The [Rune Witch's Spearmanship]

Five meters.

One meter.

"STRIKEEE!"

A flash of light.

Their spears shifted forward, like twin snakes propelling from a coiled viper. However, their expressions soon broke, the pallor of their complexions paling drastically.

It wasn't that they failed in their forms or execution, but that the wooden spears that they were using shattered completely.

The first undead that had reached them however was utterly defeated.

The [Rune Witch's Spearmanship] was not only above the basic level, but was adapted to deal with undead and demonic enemies to begin with. Though their spears had been made out of wood, Cu had tampered with the spears and planted a few runes to bolster them.

Those runes also served as a signal.

"YOU STUPID BRATS."

A flash of red entered Charlotte and Chris's eyes before the undead nearest to their proximity seemingly vanished into dust. All that was left was a single red spear that protruded from the ground in a large crater.

None of the Undead dared approach it, and from the moment that spear made its appearance, something seemed to change in the army of undead.

Regardless, neither Charlotte nor Chris were paying attention.

They were too distracted over a pair of fists that smacked them over the top of their heads.

"Damn fools, this ain't a place for children."

The echoing of a pole arm resounded as a large hand pulled up the red spear embedded into the ground.

Cu had made his appearance.

Far before E-Rantel's guards had noticed the undead approaching, Cu had long since sensed them. However, rather than confronting them immediately, he had taken the liberty of using Rune Magic to create a shelter for the people of the slums to gather within.

How was he supposed to have had expected that these two brats would act on their own despite their weakness and against a superior adversary? It was almost noteworthy really.

A sign of a true fearless warrior.

A Celt by his standards.

Cu felt his lips start to twitch upward while recalling the sight that he'd seen just before arriving.

The two kids learned fast.

They were around less than a percent of his skill, but the technique was there.

"P-Papa," Charlotte called out to him, but despite feeling slightly uncomfortable in the way that she addressed him, he merely nodded his head before turning his attention away.

"Undead huh?"

There were a lot of them, and if his eyes weren't to be deceived, he could see the form of a Demon commanding them.

He was in top condition.

No ailments or status debuffs to impair him.

Perfect.

He readied his spear, and laid it flat to rest over a single shoulder. He'd killed the nearest undead, but there were hundred more beyond the hill that couldn't be seen yet. There was plenty of work to be done, and only him to do it.

 _Fine by me._

He began to walk forward, the crisp sound of his soles crushing the ash-like remains of the undead beneath his feet echoing amidst the silence.

"D-Don't go," Charlotte subconsciously clung onto Cu's leg.

He stopped and scratched at the back of his head in response.

He looked down on her, but the brat looked like she was moments away from crying, so any harsher rebuttals were tossed out of his mind. If he were Scathatch, what would she do? On second thought no; he shouldn't be using her as a basis for anything.

There was probably a better method in the first place.

He sighed and stared Charlotte at eye level.

"I won't die," he spoke calmly.

"I won't die," he repeated stronger, raising up to his full height, back straight and body poised.

He grinned, showing a pair of sharp canines.

"I believe that it's time that the two of you understand just who it is that you're learning Spearmanship from?"

 _He admitted it._ Was what Chris thought in his mind, but he didn't say it because Cu's very aura shifted.

A large group of undead and their commander?

Child's play and nothing more.

An ominous glint appeared within a pair of crimson eyes.

"Back away," this was Cu's last warning, an air of bloodlust was beginning to form around him that instinctively caused Charlotte to loosen her grip.

He who walks in the Land of Shadows doth not fear those who tread within it.

His muscles tensed.

His breathing evened until it was unnaturally still.

There were no inhabitants in the Land of Shadows that weren't considered Monsters to begin with.

Cu was just another one of them.

 _So, don't look at me with those eyes._

He could see the concern and anxiety on Charlotte and Chris's faces.

Such sentiments shouldn't have had been directed at him who in the end of his own life failed to recognize the face of his own son and killed him in honoured combat.

Memories that weren't part of his programing as an NPC were causing him pause.

Shit, he was starting to get annoyed.

Even the prospect of being able to loosen his muscles on a horde of enemies couldn't bring his mood back up.

They stood behind him. They who were powerless and relying on him for protection.

Just like that war many, many centuries ago.

He could not let a single enemy passed.

The things that he couldn't protect, and the things that he could.

The things that mattered and the things that didn't.

Would he lose sight of them again in the end?

A Demonic Spear.

A Crimson Spear.

But it was not always that way.

The pale grey of yew bark.

"Tch," He wasn't one to think in the first place.

Therefore fight!

Charlotte and Chris were forced to cover their eyes from the gale of wind left at Cu's wake.

His feet stomped across the ground.

Fast. A slow gait.

Faster. The flash of red lightning.

An indistinct figure blurring between the lines of what was impossible and impossible.

The blood within his body roared with the furor of a wild beast.

The hot blood of the Celts.

His veins popped up over his skin, his muscles bulging.

The Warrior's Spirit!

His spear revolved around him, a red fang clearing hundreds amidst the horde.

A beast in the guise of a human.

An Insect he was not.

A figure watching in the distance furrowed her brows, but for the slightest of moments, she felt a shiver travel down her back. Was that really a human? All that she could see was the form of a fellow Great Demon.

Be it one, ten, many, or several hundred, _he would prevail._

He fought atop a distant hill, not letting a single enemy passed.

A shield of the people.

A ray within the dark of the clouds.

A figment of history.

One man that had protected a country.

The beginning of a Legend of the Ulster Cycle.

Before he was the Hound of Chulainn.

Before he was named a Hero.

"P-Papa Cu, h-he's fighting them all alone. It's like he's glowing."

Something outside the bounds of YGGDRASIL's mechanics.

An aura of a proud son of Lugh proclaimed and acknowledged by the people.

A Child of Light.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**

 **Next Update: Fate in Time by popularity.**


	20. Heroes of the Capital: Part 4

_Light that pierces forth from within the darkness, breaking the stillness of a void._

 _That was Father Cu._

The reverberating echo of a polearm resounded through the air, shattering the silence of the day.

No one was running or evacuating from within the slums any longer despite the hordes of undead wandering through the fields. Instead, many stood frozen in rapt attention while staring out into the distant horizon overlooking the hill near the outskirts of E-Rantel.

A man was glowing neither brightly nor strongly, but all the same. A sheen of light seemed to extend past the clouds and shroud him in a strange form of divinity.

The heavens parted, bright rays shining down from above upon a once destined youth.

His was the story of a boy who became a man, and a man who became a Legend.

It was not the song of the Heroes of old, but of the blood-boiling valor and courage of a battle worn and hearty people. Ireland, Land of the Celts and the shield that protected it from its enemies alone.

A proud son of Lugh.

Cu Chulainn.

Ireland's Child of Light.

 _Banish the dark._

Cu's eyes narrowed, his red pupils glowing in the midst of battle.

To the residents of the slums watching him from the distance, his figure was nothing more than a blur. He was too fast for any to keep track of. Moreover, the rate in which he decimated undead was staggering.

Charlotte and Chris were trembling in excitement and awe. The other children of the orphanage were already shouting out in encouragement.

"Go Father Cu!" The light shrouding Cu only further solidified his moniker of 'Father' and a 'Priest.'

"You can do it Father Cu!"

The older residents of the slums who Cu had helped soon echoed the children.

Meanwhile, the Adventurers that had finally been dispatched by E-Rantel were rendered mute in their shock. Many of them that were gathered on such short notice were none other than those that had jeered at Cu when he had first entered the Adventurer's establishment. None dared to belittle him any longer.

The man fighting within the horde of undead, that man wasn't human.

No one present in E-Rantel had seen anything like it.

It was the figure of a hound hunting within the plains.

Drowned in his blood-lust, Cu could not hear the fervent shouts directed at him. Perhaps it was for the better because there was no way that he would not have had reacted to it.

Priest? Him? There was just no way.

His spear cut apart undead like a knife through butter.

Gae Bolg, the cursed spear of Barbed Death.

It was a weapon created in the Land of Shadows specifically to keep the ghosts and spirits of the deceased from leaving the Gates of DunScaith.

Regardless of its cursed properties, its use against undead was undeniable.

Therefore, he'd kill them all.

As much as he enjoyed a good fight, there were people that he had to protect.

 _'Come.'_

He charged on forward, veins bulging as his fingers adjusted the grip that he had on his spear.

Red, a fierce red erupted from Gae Bolg's shaft. The aura of the damned, the manifestation of his intent to kill unleashed with his magical power.

 _One-hundred._

 _Two._

 _Three._

His took note of the number of remaining enemies and yet he noticed an oddity.

They were retreating. They dropped their weapons and armours in order to move faster and directly began leaving the area.

Cu furrowed his brows. Undead skeletons didn't think. On their own, they were unable to pull off any complex maneuvers. In which case, it meant that there must have had been someone directing them.

Cu's legs paused beneath him; his muscles taught in preparation for action.

Should he chase?

No. He shook his head.

If he left, there was no telling if another unit of undead was still waiting in the distance. Furthermore, his presence was giving peace of mind to the people of the slums depending on him. They'd panic if he suddenly just left.

Was this a baiting tactic?

Cu wasn't sure, and he hardly cared.

So, what if the undead were planning a trap, he was all for it. He enjoyed the thrill of a challenge. However, he thought back to the way Charlotte and the other brats looked up to him for protection before looking back to stare behind him.

The children.

The people of the slums.

The Adventurers and town guards.

All were looking at him.

He winced, a hand placing itself over his temples. Memories of another time filtered into his mind.

The same bloody field.

The same figure standing alone against army after army.

 _The hope of the people._

Cu gritted his teeth before removing his hand from his temple and grimacing.

He couldn't leave to chase. Not now when others needed him.

He stood alone upon a field of undead corpses, blue hair dangling lightly behind his back while a crimson spear radiated blood-lust.

This wasn't how it was going to end though.

His eyes narrowed into slits.

 _There. Found it._

He noticed it. A shadow hurriedly dashing away at the edge of his detection.

" **Berkana**." Runic magic, a Germanic art of magecraft definitely not found within YGGDRASIL.

Cu carved a specific symbol over the air and left a mark on a stone lying beneath his feet which he promptly pocketed. His eyes narrowed on the distant figure which vanished on the next hill. Like a hound chasing its prey, you could run, but there was no getting away.

Cu grunted before easing off the tension from his body.

The skirmish was over.

Before Cu even knew it, he was surrounded by the children from the orphanage who kept gawking at him.

Further off, the members from E-Rantel's town Guard and Adventurer teams began murmuring to themselves before hurriedly moving away. Compared to Cu who had fought for the people of the slums, the Guard and Adventurer teams from E-Rantel felt far too lacking.

On a side note, rumours of a Priest that should not be provoked soon began rapidly spreading throughout E-Rantel's inner and outer circles.

The person in question himself, Cu, had no knowledge of it what so ever and was still wracking his mind for a solution to his current problem after the children coaxed him back to the orphanage.

Great.

Cu looked hard at the pile of books and messy notes that he'd taken regarding the New World's language. Most of it still looked like gibberish to him which reflected directly on his stiffened face.

Charlotte and the other children behind her forcibly quelled their amusement.

Rough looking and stern as Cu appeared, he was still a grown man. Getting laughed at by children for illiteracy and horrid study ethic would directly damage his ego. More so when Cu knew how to read, but just didn't understand a different language yet.

He was never the intelligent type to begin with.

It was at that moment that both Chris and Charlotte paled. If Cu were to fall into a terrible mood, then wouldn't the difficulty of their training increase to more than it already was?

The siblings looked at each other before shuddering.

Chris moved in and shooed the other children away before Cu took notice of their suppressed laughter.

Simultaneously, Charlotte moved to hold onto Cu's hand and draw his attention away.

"D-Don't worry papa Cu," Charlotte stumbled over her words. "You're learning as fast if not faster than the others."

Cu's expression loosened for an instant at the knowledge that he wasn't alone in his inability to study quickly.

Charlotte inwardly patted herself on the back. However, things soon escalated far off from her intended purpose.

"Who are the others?" Cu asked absently. He looked like he didn't care, but Charlotte could see the interest in his expression.

She froze and immediately darted her eyes away. "Very talented people," she tried to play off the issue.

Chris furrowed his brows. He'd just returned from ushering the other children out and had heard Cu's question. The context however, was lost on him.

"Lisa and the others are definitely talented," Chris nodded. "Look, you can see them from here right out the window just by the front porch. They learn fast everyday."

 _Y-You fool!_

Charlotte had the urge to wring her brother's neck.

Everything moved in slow motion.

Cu turned to look towards the specified direction and no matter how Charlotte tried to intervene, she was simply too short to obscure the view.

The talented people that Charlotte had spoken of were no more than three-year-old toddlers playing the day away with coloured wood blocks.

There was no way that Cu wouldn't notice.

Expectedly, silence predominated the room.

 _Run._

Charlotte's instincts compelled her to move.

She ran directly passed Chris who still looked confused at her actions.

 _Good riddance. It was your fault!_

In another few seconds she would reach the door of the room's exit.

Her blood was pumping furiously through her veins, her ears ringing from her desperate exertion, and yet dreams were always fleeting.

A vice-like hand suddenly placed itself on her shoulder.

 _NOOOOOO! NOOOOOOOOOOO!_

"Where do you think you're going?" Cu's smile was strained. "No one leaves until this shit makes sense to me."

 _NOOOOOOOOOOOO!_

* * *

In the distant Kingdom of the Baharuth Empire, Nero was having much the same problem as Cu. She was terribly illiterate. She could understand the words being spoken to her and vice versa, but reading the language was entirely different.

She loathed to admit it though and did everything in her power to hide the fact. Her pride as an Emperor refused to tolerate the slight on her lofty image, but different from Cu, she learned fast. Using her identity as a performer, she took the time to educate herself from the masses that flocked to her plays.

Nero was now completely literate which helped in her current position.

"If you do that, you'll only make the problem worse."

The sound of arguing and bickering continued endlessly within a large room, lavish but not overly so. Large tapestries lined the walls, and several shelves filled to the brim with books and tomes took up the majority of the area.

Nero was the only one still lounging on a couch four feet away from where a group of Advisors were bickering amongst each other over a table that Jircniv was at the head of.

Admittedly, Jircniv had invited her to join him in his palace at their first meeting.

There had been no lust in Jircniv's gaze at that time, but rather a deep curiosity at encountering a stranger who seemed to understand his troubles almost perfectly.

She had agreed to Jircniv's proposal. After all, it fell in line with what Agravain had in mind. However, she wasn't exactly prone to listening to someone else's orders.

She was the rules.

Being low profile was something that Agravain insisted that she do, but could he not understand that no flower could bear to stay away from the light of the sun? Especially not the Flower of Olympia. She'd do things her own way.

Left out of the conversation at the administrative table, Nero was idly counting the successive line of portraits depicting the various past Emperors of the Baharuth Empire. They reminded her of her Rome and its rulers.

The laurels.

The dancing petals.

Her people calling out to her in praise.

'I am an Emperor.' She had not been lying the first time that she had said that phrase to Jircniv.

Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus of Rome.

Praised by her subjects.

Loved by her people.

Yet still tossed aside in the end.

Love. What was love if not the willingness that she had for her subjects?

It was a Love that others had not been able to understand.

But still she cherished them.

Her people of Rome.

"Stop that already!"

Ah, Nero blinked her eyes, her mouth opening into a wide 'O' shape. The voice had been directed at her while she'd been immersed in memories that she had no recollection of in her NPC inputs. In her hands, she'd been plucking off rose petals from a bouquet of flowers and tossing them to glide through the air in a red a storm.

Naturally, random rose petals now filled a distinct portion of the room that included even the table that Jircniv and the others were using.

Jircniv seemed oddly amused at her actions, but the advisors by his side were clearly not. They looked ready to strangle her if given the chance.

In their eyes she was being given special treatment just because the Emperor found favour with her. Their impression of Nero was only made worse because she constantly spent the days either lounging or meandering through the Baharuth Kingdom streets performing for random crowds.

"Why are you even here?" An old woman with a distinguished disposition turned her chin upwards in scorn. "Just because you're beautiful when your young, it doesn't justify your callous actions. Beauty does not equate to a lack of manners. We are discussing vital kingdom affairs and all you do is cause a distraction."

Nero tilted her head, entirely unaffected at the old woman's words. She then hopped off of the couch and skipped lightly to oversee the materials spread out over the table.

There were four Advisors currently present with Jircniv surrounded by all of them at the centermost chair. Each of them had a small stack of notes and a map they were using to detail certain issues that needed to be dealt with in the Empire.

"What's the topic of administration?" Nero asked lightly.

The Advisors were hardly willing to answer her.

Jircniv was the one to answer out of curiosity.

"Theft is the current issue." He straightened the papers in front of him and placed them to one side while laying his map out for Nero to see. "After the purging of several corrupt nobility in my Empire, the lack of law enforcement personnel once administered by the executed houses has caused an increase in crime. Using a limited supply of guards and legionaries, we need to reaffirm to these emerging criminals that the stability of the Baharuth Empire remains firm."

Nero hummed lightly.

The Advisors looked at her in contempt. "Enough showboating, you clearly have no idea of the first thing to do. Ours infantry is limited by the vastness of our Empire and we can't just neglect a single area to account for the higher crime rates of another. To begin with, this matter needs careful thought and-"

"A simple problem!" Nero interrupted the old woman mid-speech.

She pointed her finger over a few key locations on Jircniv's map and then took a feather quilt and promptly marked them with ink. "Just send men here, here, and there. Done."

"What do you mean done?" Another advisor, an older man in his forties, finally lost his temper. "Someone acting as flamboyant and flippant as you during a civil meeting clearly does not know the first thing about administration."

A part of Jircniv agreed with what the advisor had said, but his eyes quickly narrowed while scrutinizing the locations that Nero had marked with ink. In one way or another, the markings were all intricately connected with each other such that any number of troops could be readily deployed at a moment's notice.

Jircniv faltered before taking his copy of the map that Nero had dabbled in and raising it closer to his face.

The old woman did not take notice of Jircniv's actions and directly pointed a finger at Nero. "A performer? Of course, she has no qualifications to be here in the first place!"

"Leave," Jircniv's tone was flat.

"Yes, hurry and leave!" The old woman crossed her arms and leered at Nero. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

"No, Carla. I meant you."

The Advisor, Carla, felt as if a rock had been dropped on her back. "W-What?" She stuttered out in confusion. "My Liege, there must be some kind of mistake."

"There is no mistake." Jircniv shook his head and narrowed his eyes. "You yourself know my policies. Status is outweighed by capability in my Empire."

Carla looked visibly struck, her complexion paling. "But that's precisely why I told her to leave. She does not know what it is that she's doing."

Jircniv sighed and placed Nero's marked map for Carla to see. Even if Carla was inadequate in judging others, she was not incompetent.

"Look carefully at these locations and tell me what you think." Jircniv spoke for all the Advisors present to carefully judge the map.

"Nonsense," the older aged man looked reluctant as well as his fellow Adivsors with him.

"Just look." Jircniv insisted.

Silence.

"T-There's just no way." The old woman was the first to express her disbelief. The others just turned their incredulous gazes towards Nero who was beaming at them unperturbed. "You, are you really a performer? No, who are you really?"

"Nero, the Flower of Olympia!" Nero placed a hand over her chest and gave a low bow.

The Advisors were speechless at her sheer energy and enthusiasm. It was no wonder that their Emperor had been drawn in by this woman. Her energy was infectious.

The privilege and disposition of an Imperial.

The Advisors glanced at each other. All of them had heard of the rumours that the common folk had spread about Nero once calling herself an Emperor. Perhaps there was genuine credibility to this claim?

The Advisors did not know, and over the course of the meeting, their gaze couldn't help but gravitate towards Nero. She found a solution for each of the Baharuth Empire's administrative problems as if she'd once done something similar before and was in fact a veteran.

"Genius. It's a genius," the Advisor who'd kept himself composed the longest finally broke out into an awed whisper.

Reluctant as the old woman was, even she had to admit Nero's brilliance.

Jircniv soon dismissed all of the other kingdom advisors until it was just him and Nero in the room.

None of the two spoke.

Nero just observed as even after his Advisors had left, Jircniv was single-handedly dealing with Baharuth Empire's affairs even on his own.

It reminded Nero of herself.

"As expected of an Emperor." She spoke softly. "You handle almost all of the state affairs even on your own."

Jircniv glanced up at Nero before glancing back at his own work. As much as he felt that he wanted to rest, he had an obligation to his people to keep them happy even with his reputation as a tyrant.

Nero sat across from him and was lounging in an open chair, her legs kicked out in front of her and swaying. She was short, so her feet hardly touched the floor. Her gold-plated leg armour clinked lightly with her movements.

The sound of the quilt writing over paper was the only other noise in the room, but it was oddly peaceful.

"What are you doing?" Jircniv asked when next he had looked up at Nero.

"Thinking," was all that Nero said.

No matter how boisterous or flamboyant she generally was, Jircniv had observed moments where Nero seemed to be caught up in her thoughts. In this case, night had already fallen and she was staring up at the moon from an open window of the palace.

She looked troubled, as if recalling a bitter memory.

Jircniv had long since finished his reports. Right now, he was just observing Nero lightly.

From the very moment that he'd invited her to his palace, he'd been trying to see if Nero had any kind of motive. He had found none. Instead, she was steadily beginning to grow adored by the people of the Baharuth Empire whom she visited daily whether to just give a greeting or to provide entertainment.

In all honesty, he wanted to recruit her. The idea had been festering in his mind all afternoon, but he could see that Nero seemed to have her own considerations.

His mouth opened then closed before he leaned his back against his chair and temporarily gave up on the idea.

No. This was fine as it was as long as she was still by his side.

Jircniv closed his eyes to rest for a moment.

Even in the silence, the mood between the two Emperor's felt oddly natural.

In the time that he'd gotten to know her, it was like Nero could understand exactly what he intended to do before he even requested it.

Even now, Jircniv said nothing as he opened his eyes and glanced at the pile of papers that Nero had quietly taken from his pile of documents to complete herself. In a way, he was already starting to trust her by not calling her out on it.

It was strange having someone to rely on, but Jircniv did not know just what kind of emotion Nero was feeling while she spent more and more time in the Baharuth Empire.

Rome. The buildings, the structures, the clothes, the people, it all reminded her of her Rome.

This was why Nero would find herself lost in thought on most days.

The current situation was no different.

Agravain had asked her to create a foothold in the Baharuth Empire, but rather than just that, in the process of doing so, she inevitably began to reminisce.

"Say, Jircniv," Nero looked up wistfully from her seat across the table. The moonlight seemed to drape itself over her. "Would you like to hear another play?"

It was the story of an adored Emperor.

Jircniv did not refuse. He was transfixed.

An ideal Emperor. A just ruler.

He felt more and more that the Emperor that Nero portrayed was one worth trying to become.

"Work for me," the words left Jircniv's mouth before he could stop himself.

Nero smiled weakly.

"You honour me Lord Jircniv, but I'm merely just a performer. Moreover," She parted her lips, her brows furrowed "An Emperor never bows to another ruler, and I too am an Emperor."

"Then can an Emperor not learn from one Emperor to another?" Jircniv retained his bearing despite Nero's allure in the moonlight. "Will you teach me your ways as an Emperor?"

Nero closed her eyes and answered softly.

"Very well. This rose will not hold back. You best prepare yourself."

She was smiling.

To Jircniv, perhaps that was all that he had wanted.

A confident smile that conveyed that everything would be alright both now and in the future.

* * *

The delegation trip to Northern Roble had been intended to be composed solely of Gemas Hawthorn, Shirou, and Mordred, but somehow the situation had changed.

Gemas Hawthorn was in the lead acting as a guide while Shirou who was farther behind was flanked by an entourage of the Round Table.

Tristan, Lancelot, Gawain, and Bedivere walked in a protective unit around him. Mordred was left near the back of the group by order of Arturia.

Unknown to Shirou, Arturia had sent them due to an ominous feeling that she could not pin down. It was like she knew parts of Shirou outside of her own settings, and it was confusing her.

 _'Don't let him out of your sight.'_

 _'He's an idiot.'_

 _'He Always gets into trouble.'_

It was driving Arturia paranoid and therefore she'd forced Lancelot and rest to act as armed guards with distinct orders that Shirou was not made privy to.

Gemas who had once been told that he'd be Shirou's only escort was caught off guard for a moment at the extra Knights that had decided to tag along, but soon composed himself. It was too much of a bother to insist that only he escort Shirou to Northern Roble so he decided that the matter could be left for Calca to handle.

Gemas would just do his job to guide them to Northern Roble and nothing more. After all, his priority was to go look for his wife and have a talk about migrating to Camelot as a permanent residence. Of course, he was going to formally bring up the matter to Northern Roble's representatives first. He was banking on the fact that he could be considered a foreign emissary while staying within Camelot's walls to obtain approval.

Gemas had already thought everything out and was only dealing with the nitty details at this point. For now, he needed to just focus on his job.

"We'll reach Northern Roble in another few hours at most." Gemas explained to Shirou and the others before releasing a messenger pigeon out into the air. "I've just sent advanced notice so that the Queen can prepare in advance for the meeting."

Saying his piece, Gemas fell silent. Unless he felt it necessary to speak, he would not do so. The only exception for that rule was for his wife and family.

Shirou, Lancelot, and the others had long since gotten used to Gemas's temperament.

"Thanks," they all responded curtly.

Northern Roble looked no different from the South in terms of geography and building structure. Politics was the only real difference between the two so the journey itself had been largely uneventful.

The inside of Northern Roble's castle estate where the meeting was to be held though, was entirely different.

From the moment that Gemas had given advanced notice to Calca about the arrival of dignitaries from the South, Calca had shifted into overdrive.

"Hurry! We have to make this place as presentable as possible," Calca was directing her guards in how to position her audience hall's furniture and decorations to look the most regal. "There, just put it there and make sure that the red carpet is properly rolled out."

The guards were in a flurry of activity with Calca at the head of everything. Honestly speaking, she hardly used the audience room in favour of considering effective policies in the comfort of her own room. In which case, the audience hall was hardly maintained. The palace maids cleaned it up a few times, but the vast majority of the place remained utterly dusty due to the hall's large size.

"Done, it's done," Calca let out a breath of relief as her guards left and her friends Remedios and Kelart entered the room.

Calca was resting on the open throne by the time Kelart and Remedios made their way over to take their own seats at their respected chairs. Remedios sat on the seat reserved for the head of the paladin order, and Kelart for the mage's guild.

"It looks good," Kelart complimented idly.

The hall was sparkling at this point, and the empty armours out on display on either side exuded a noble vanity.

"I thought it was fine as it was," Remedios grumbled.

It was almost the appointed time for Gemas to arrive. Calca knew this and was mentally preparing herself.

It didn't matter what sort of delegation from Southern Roble walked past the doors of her throne room, Calca knew that she could not allow the dignity of the Royal Family to be tarnished. She subconsciously straightened her back, and constantly flattened the creases over her dress until they were all perfectly smoothened out.

Kelart followed suit while Remedios remained stoic in her plate armour, a hand over the pommel of her sword.

"Remember to keep your expression still at all times," Calca spoke firmly in reminder. She could already hear the distinct noise of footsteps approaching the hall. Kelart and Remedios were the same.

"Demonstrate the bearings of an accomplished individual. Do not show weakness nor callousness." Calca continued to talk in a low voice in her limited duration of time. "We do not truly know the situation of the South, but the fact that they were able to send a group of emissaries means that the conflict has already passed. North and South have never seen eye to eye about my ruling, so we must maintain a position of equal ground. As the Queen's guards and personal friends, do not smear the prestige of Northern Roble."

Kelart huffed and turned up her chin into an indifferent pose while Remedios hardened her gaze.

Politics was a battle not with swords or shields, but with words, wit, and bearings.

The three had experienced court politics and debate numerous times already and could be considered veterans of the field. Regular techniques and persuasive skills were no longer effective on them. Intimidation was even less so with the prodigy, Remedios, in the room.

The echo of footsteps ceased.

The war of words was now.

The three instantly cooled their features.

Gradually, the oaken doors of Calca's throne room opened.

Gemas was in the lead and the rest were-

Oh.

 _Oh._

Kelart swallowed audibly, a finger absently twirling a lock of her hair as traces of red tinged the tips of her cheeks. Her face felt hot. Her pupils were dilated and she looked entirely dazed. She was staring, and she was making no effort to conceal it.

 _Stop! Stop it!_

Calca would have had admonished her friend for her loss in rationality if not for the betrayal of her own body. She felt her own face flushing red, and in her mortification her face took on a rosy hue. As the host of the meeting, it was her duty to start introductions and move the proceedings along. However, right now, she knew that she definitely could not trust in her own voice. Moreover, like Kelart, her gaze just kept drifting back over and over again.

 _Stay strong._ She had to stay strong.

Kelart was already out. She was done. Her mouth very nearly started to hang open as her mouth suddenly dried.

Remedios was no better. In fact, it was worse. She looked like she had no reaction, but in reality, she was entirely frozen.

Remedios had never been one to fret over men as the majority of her social contact with them involved petty nobility. This time was different.

Remedios was a Warrior, a Paladin-Class. She respected righteousness, honour, and bearings above all, and every single man she could see trailing behind Gemas in front of her literally radiated such virtues with their presence alone. They were young too. From their appearance, all of similar age to her.

It was the first time that Remedios had ever felt her heart beating so fast outside of training. She was nervous about what they'd think of her and it reflected in how stiff her movements looked. Fortunately, she didn't have to move any time soon as Gemas gestured for Shirou and the others to stand in line at the foot of Calca's throne.

Their combined presence was blinding and neither Calca, Kelart, or Remedios could even begin to evaluate what level of strength that they each individually possessed.

Worse.

They were gorgeous: Chiseled features, lean builds, and earnest appearances. Moreover, their positions as dignitaries meant that they were all of high enough standing to be considered ideal bachelors for nobility.

Calm and collected.

Silent and reticent.

Steadfast and loyal.

The traits that any woman looked for in a man were entirely out in display and lined up in a row. It didn't help that Calca, Remedios, and Kelart were all unmarried young women. Their breaths hitched in their throats. Mordred was the only one out of place due to the way that she was glaring, but Calca and the others did not take notice.

Experienced as they were in politics, charm was another thing entirely when court debate had always been surrounded by old men and women.

"…"

The silence was stretching and Gemas was starting to realize the oddity of the situation. He coughed as a reminder. He knew Calca to be a prudent woman and Queen. Perhaps she was simply gauging the ability of Shirou and the others?

In truth, Calca was just inwardly flustered. She even momentarily forgot the purpose of the day's meeting; a part of her assuming that she was in another marriage interview arranged by her father instead.

 _Calm down. CALM DOWN._

Rationality tried to pry its way back into Calca's head in full confrontation against her feminine instinct.

Remedios pinched her cheek, her expression in monotone.

Kelart remained unblinking.

"W-Welcome," that was about as much as Calca could get out. She was muddle headed and she knew it. Subconsciously, she was trying to make herself as attractive as possible, her hands pushing her bangs behind her left ear, and her body leaned forward. She nearly cursed at Kelart when she noticed Kelart discreetly loosening the straps of her dress to 'inadvertently' reveal more of her cleavage.

 _T-That wasn't fair!_

Calca and Remedios shared the same though.

For the first time ever, Remedios was inwardly fuming at her sister. She was vexed.

Neither Calca or Remedios could follow after Kelart's example.

A Queen could not be so shameless let alone an honoured Paladin.

 _S-Since when did the Roble Holy Kingdom have such outstanding men?_

In the end, the dignity of Northern Roble which Calca had spoke of was nowhere to be seen as the three women began fiercely glaring at each other with false smiles and courtesies hidden behind cordial pretense.

Gemas was smart. He could hazard a guess as to what Calca and the others were thinking.

He felt shame build up from within him as Shirou and the others turned to him in confusion for some kind of explanation.

Gemas sadly had none.

* * *

 **Thanks for Reading! Happy Halloween!**

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 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


	21. Heroes of the Capital: Part 5

The silence within Calca's throne room in Northern Roble was getting awkward. The space itself wasn't very large because Calca never had much need to host many personal meetings after her official coronation in the North. This would be the first time that she'd used the throne room in years, and she felt like her first impression to her guests was already failing.

She could see Gemas from the corner of her eyes attempting to blend into the shadows out of embarrassment, and she couldn't fault him for it. For as much dignity as she had attempted to instill within herself, Remedios, and Kelart, she had still failed to account for the situation.

She, Kelart, and Remedios, were still young women with unjust rumours floating within the Kingdom regarding their personal love lives. She _wasn't_ in any kind of illicit relationship with the Custodio sisters as the rumours seemed to suggest. Instead, she was aggrieved that her preference in an ideal man had caused her to reject so many political marriages that her sexual orientations were put into question. She'd just never found anyone suitable to throw her into a fluster until now. Evidently, Kelart and Remedios were the same.

Things were getting out of hand and she herself wasn't quite feeling stable.

Hooking a hand across Kelart's shoulder, Calca pulled Kelart behind her in order to both reaffirm her position and to get the meeting back in order. Meanwhile, Remedios was too busy doing her best impression of a statue to warrant any real concern as competition-no; that wasn't what she meant.

This damn clouded mind.

She coughed delicately over her sleeve, her left hand subtly moving to pinch her thigh in order to get her to focus. "Yes, well, where were we? Pardon this little awkward debacle, I've been suffering from a bout of anemia as of late." She grinned weakly, shadowing her features with her hair to make her seem ill.

 _'Bullshit.'_

Kelart looked moment's away from calling Calca out on her lie, so she quickly covered her friend's mouth with a handkerchief without a change in her expression. "Pardon, Ms. Kelart here. We were having snacks moments earlier and she'd always been a messy eater. Sometimes I have to wipe away some crumbs that she'd missed over lips."

 _'Bitch. Did you just insinuate that I eat like a pig while covering for yourself?_

Kelart felt so wronged that her eyes narrowed into daggers. However, she was mortified to realize that Shirou and the others seemed to just go along with what Calca had said. Worse, when she was moments away from protesting, it wasn't Calca who stopped her, but this time it was Remedios who intervened.

"Indeed, my sister has always been something of a messy slob at times," Remedios looked entirely genuine when she spoke with a stone face and a long sigh.

Kelart's eyes dilated, suddenly realizing that she'd just been ganged up on. Moreover, anything that she could say in denial would only reflect badly for her as if she was trying to cover up or make excuses for what Calca and Remedios had said.

"…" Kelart was wordless while gritting her teeth. Her reputation had just taken a blow in less than three seconds.

For their parts, Remedios and Calca just moved the conversation along.

"My name is Calca, and this is my strongest Paladin, Remedios, and my disorganized Mage, Kelart."

"!" Why? _Why!_

Kelart would have had started sniffling if only she didn't know that doing so would only make Calca and Remedios's words more convincing.

Seeing what was happening from a distance, Gemas grimly turned his attention away while reaffirming a preestablished belief. Politicians were vicious. Backstabbers, more so.

If Shirou and the others were aware of the subterfuge occurring between Calca, Kelart, and Remedios, they didn't show it. Instead, Shirou didn't pick up on it at all. He even offered a sincere smile and an extra handkerchief to Kelart for the next time she ate snacks. She took it with a strained smile, but rather than thank him, Shirou had the vague impression that she wanted to storm out of the room and cry.

Calca and Remedios were all smiles.

"My name is Shirou Emiya," Shirou introduced himself with a small bow before gesturing for the others to do their own introductions.

Lancelot was first. As the First Knight of King Arthur, he was well versed in the etiquette of a royal court. Placing an arm over his chest, he used his other arm to throw back his mantle as he took a knee, helmet placed by his side.

"Greetings, Milady and Ladies." He inclined his head while temporarily closing his eyes, his posture never breaking from its refined grace. "I am the First Knight of the Order of Knights known as the Round Table. Lancelot Du Lac at your service." He stared up to see three dazed expressions looking back at him.

Lancelot nodded before falling back in line as Gawain stepped forward imitating Lancelot's earlier posture. However, different from Lancelot, the aura Gawain exuded was not refined nor regal, it was one of warmth.

"My name is Sir Gawain of the Round Table. Knight of the Sun," Gawain grinned kindly before withdrawing, allowing the rest to do their introductions one by one.

"My name is Sir Tristan."

"Sir Bedivere."

"Mordred. Just Mordred, I don't need the Sir," Mordred spoke gruffly with an air of ill concealed hostility. Unlike Shirou and the other Knights, she distinctly felt a very different type of danger from the women in front of her, prompting her to go on the defensive. It was at this time that she understood just what purpose she served by coming. "Let's hurry and get this over with."

"You requested a meeting?" Shirou coughed and shifted the conversation back to the matter at hand.

"Uhm, we did?" Kelart said stiffly. She, like Calca and Remedios were still recovering from the introductions. Calca stiffly nudged Kelart on the side to snap her out of it. She flushed in embarrassment as she straightened herself and tried to play off the matter. "W-We did indeed."

"I'd like to ask about the current state of Southern Roble." Calca took the lead after much effort focusing her mind. "There's been word of an attempted power struggle between the nobility and although my influence is not high in the South, as the Queen of the country I at least have a right to know."

It was true. Calca was the ruling sovereign of the country and she had a right to know if only to manage the safety of her citizens.

"There was a power struggle, but it has already been dealt with. Some of the High-Nobles waged territory wars and caused strife amongst the peasant classes. We intervened and sorted out the situation." Shirou roughly summarized the sequence of events. "There's no longer any need for concern."

Calca took a moment to process Shirou's words as Kelart stepped forward. She was the top Mage in Roble so she had always possessed an astute mind. "By intervened, who is we?" She asked.

"The Holy City Camelot," Bedivere spoke up cordially. "It's the newest city founded by our Order of Knights after the turmoil in the South."

A new city? The admission caused a few heated whispers between Kelart and Calca who temporarily put aside their grievances for the sake of the country. Rather than focus on the topic of a new city itself, they focused on 'how.'

The Nobles of Southern Roble were largely hard-headed and egoists. They would never allow a new city to form in their territory without their express permission. The fact that Camelot was formed meant that either the Southern Nobles had all agreed, or that the power of Camelot was too great to supress. In either case, the situation indicated a change in power in Southern Roble. This was either a good thing or a bad thing, but neither Kelart or Calca could verify which option it was.

They needed time and observation.

"Hypothetically, what are your thoughts in setting up an embassy in Northern Roble?" Calca said after some consideration. "It would help foster better relations between the North and South to help mend the divide within the country."

"Fuck n-"

"That sounds ideal," Bedivere, always the pacifist said thoughtfully while forcibly shutting Mordred's mouth. "A country divided is a country that will inevitably fall."

"Then we are agreed?" Calca cordially clasped her hands together.

Bedivere hesitated.

"I'm afraid not, milady," Tristan interjected, expression neutral while stepping forward. "That decision does not fall on the shoulders of I or my fellow knights around me. It belongs to another."

Tristan, Lancelot, Bedivere, Mordred, and Gawain looked to Shirou. Calca and the others quickly noticed such behaviour and understood the implications.

Shirou Emiya was it?

What sort of status did he hold in order to be deferred to with such loyalty?

"I don't see any problems in agreeing," Shirou said while fidgeting under the attention. He didn't think that he'd ever get used to this sort of feeling. "If it helps to save people and provide them a better life, then very well. I agree to setting up an embassy."

The talks of the specifics regarding time and location within Northern Roble smoothly proceeded onwards. Meanwhile, Remedios beamed with confidence when Gawain brought up the topic of sparring against Northern Roble's Elite. The one thing that Remedios prided herself in was her skill, and what better way to leave a lasting impression on a fellow Knight-Class?

Soon enough, the meeting was over.

Calca looked visibly relieved. In fact, she and the Custodio sisters looked exceedingly satisfied with how pleasant the meeting went. If not for how urgently Mordred forced Shirou and the rest out of the room, Calca would have had been certain to invite everyone to stay longer.

In the distance, Gemas sighed.

If only the matters discussed in the meeting could be so easy.

Mend the divide within the country? He only feared that when the residents of the North discovered the ruler of Camelot, there would no longer be a Northern Roble at all. To all the residents of Roble, the Holy Maiden was sacred for the country, far more than its ruling monarchy.

The Kingdom was bound to change inevitably.

He had to go find his wife and inform her of the country's developments as soon as possible. The return of the forces of the Evil Gods was already an ill omen.

"Remedios, Kelart, the two of you are temporarily dismissed. I can handle the development of the South's embassy building myself."

"No, I think not. My Queen, such activities are far below someone of your revered status to oversee. Leave it to us Custodio sisters to handle."

"…!"

The air suddenly became oppressive.

Gemas could hear the start of a heated argument. One in which he had no intention of mediating. That was hell he'd be walking into, and he was no sinner.

It was time to head to the Adventurer's Association.

He discreetly moved to the throne room's exit, and firmly shut the door behind him. He respected Calca's quick wit and political skills, but sometimes he just had to recall that no one was ever perfect. Anyone who said otherwise would only be fooling themselves.

* * *

Changes were occurring everywhere within the New World as a result of the meddling of individuals with the best of intentions.

In the Baharuth Empire, troubles still persistently festered outside of just recovering from internal strife. For example, the history of the Empire's rapid expansion from a small city state to its current size meant that the lands that it had conquered or claimed weren't at all harmonized. The situation itself was even worse by the borders of the country where the 'territory' of the Barbarian tribes coincided with the boundaries officially set by the Empire.

Jircniv was developing a headache in how to solve the issue, a hand resting over the gold laurel crown over his head. He grunted before sitting upwards.

Suppression through force was honestly his best method to solve the entire issue. The Barbarians were primitive in technology and could not hope to withstand the martial skill and Steelworks developed by the Empire's finest. There would be a few short skirmishes at the beginning, but over time the Barbarian leaders should come to understand the folly of resistance and agree to an armistice as a prelude to peaceful negotiation.

However, using such a method would surely consolidate his reputation as a tyrant amongst the common people. All the work that he'd ever done, all the stress and hardship was for their sake, and yet it was ironic that he was criticized for his dedication.

Red. Crimson. The colour of blood.

That was him, Jircniv Rune Farlord El Nix, the Bloody Emperor.

He sighed before his eyes crossed together, staring at the index finger pointed between his brows as he slouched over the chair of a slow-moving carriage.

"Bang."

A playful snort entered his ears as he watched Nero make noises and blow lightly on her finger. "Even for Emperors, thinking too much often leads to nowhere. Often the hardest decisions are solved b the simplest choices."

Nero placed her hands over her stomach and grinned lightly at him from where she sat opposite to him on the carriage. To get matters straight, she wasn't sitting upright. Her back was planted over the velcro-like padding of the carriage cushion and her legs were propped up leaning against the wall.

He'd had a feeling that Nero wasn't the sort to keep still on a long journey, but he'd never thought it would translate to a child's attention span and constant singing. Oh God the singing. He'd already cast sound cancelling magic on his ears that muted out a specific level of frequency and pitch whenever it got too loud, but still it wasn't enough.

Honestly, he didn't know how he'd survived the current four-hour journey to the Empire's West Border where initial talks with the Barbarian tribes were to take place. If it went well, it meant peace, if not then war it will be. He didn't have the time to consider any other alternatives when the base demand of the Barbarian tribes was for the Empire to cede back decade owned land.

It simply wasn't an option, not now with the hit the economy had taken. One good thing about keeping corrupt Nobles around was that they all did a damn good job in running their businesses. Without them, the circulation of currency just wasn't the same in the Empire.

In time, the problem would fix itself, but time itself was luxury with many more problems involved.

It just so happened that the most lucrative materials were not found near the center of the Empire, but near its borders. There was no way that he was allowing that land to be receded because he had plans to stimulate the economy through the materials found there.

"You know, they'll never agree to anything with the kind of face that you're making," Nero helpfully spoke up.

"This is my resting face," he said flatly.

Nero shrugged her shoulders in jest. "You know what you need as an Emperor?"

"What?" He blinked before glancing up.

"Charm. Charisma!"

"Rejected." It was too much effort, and it wouldn't work with the kind of reputation that he had anyway. Rather than Charisma, Fear and Influence would be a more apt negotiation skill for him to possess.

Nero stuck out her tongue before huffing.

He stood up, left the carriage, and directly closed the carriage door on her face.

They'd arrived at the meeting location a few minutes ago and he'd only waited before exiting his carriage to see if Nero could provide him with any sort of inspiration. At the very least, he was relieved to discover that talking with her had removed any tension or fatigue from his mind and body.

He felt refreshed, which was a good thing because he'd need the calm piece of mind.

It was time to personally talk with Barbarians because he couldn't trust any of his Foreign Affairs advisors to do the job properly.

The meeting was to be held within a small tribal tent guarded by men and women armed with sharpened sticks. The tent itself was held together by thread and thick vines that connected to sturdy pieces of wood hammered deep into the ground.

There was a musky scent in the air, kind of like ripened fruit. Not too good, but not too bad either.

Walking forward, he straightened his posture and brushed back a few strands of his hair which ended up over his eyes. In his right hand, he held a few offertory gifts which he felt would be largely unappreciated by the Barbarians at the border because they did not know of their actual value. Still, he'd rather try settling them down with gifts then not. There was always a chance that someone sensible lived within the Barbarian tribes.

As for going into enemy territory by himself, he didn't have the slightest fear. On top of having top-tier defensive items from the Baharuth Empire, the Barbarian Tribes would not dare strike at him. They knew that the strength of the Empire would crush them in retaliation and that wasn't the point of the Tribal chiefs meeting today.

Peace was something that both sides wanted, the conditions of which neither side had just yet to agree on.

"Well? What will it be?" He asked as soon as he entered the tent. In front of him was a group of six men and women arranged around a square table at the center of the room representing the various Barbarian Tribes.

"You know as well as we that the conditions that you've presented to us through letter do not meet or bottom lines," one of them spoke out slowly.

"And you should understand that the conditions I've proposed to you all are far more than what can actually be demanded. Free sovereignty amongst your people, the right to bare arms, open borders, these conditions are favourable as they are. Cede back land? Impossible. With the strength of the Empire, do you think we even need this negotiation?" He adopted a hard stance. In meetings such as these, even an ounce of weakness could be pried open and preyed upon. He was no weakling. He was an Emperor.

Half of the Tribal leaders backed down, while the other half remained adamant.

"We stand by our cause. This land is part of our tradition."

Jircniv released a weary breath. "Is there really no room for compromise?"

"As we see it now, no."

Jircniv's lips thinned. This entire gathering was less of a meeting and more of an acknowledgment discussing the letters exchanged between both parties before hand. This was why he had immediately been able to cut to the heart of the topic without even taking a seat.

He inwardly grimaced, but outwardly gifted the gifts in his hands to each Tribal Leader before moving back towards the exit of the tent. "Remember, the Empire _never_ mistreats its own. Luxuries, securities, medical aid, for the sake of the Empire's people, no expense is too much. However, for our enemies, there is no other option left but the grave. Take your time and consider your options wisely."

He left the tent, and only when he was out of sight, did he let his shoulders sag. The entire meeting was as he had expected. A failure.

Well, maybe it didn't matter very much. His reputation was already that of a tyrant. It wouldn't sink any further anyway after another subjugation through violence.

He stiffened for a moment when he felt a finger press between his brows. He glanced up.

"Bang." Nero acted as if she'd just shot him with an arrow from her finger. "I told you that thinking too much gets you nowhere."

"And I'm of the opinion that thinking too little makes you reticent." He stared absently at Nero, feeling his stress naturally work itself away. "I've yet to be proven wrong."

"Well, maybe you're just not doing it right?" Nero twirled on the balls of her feet, the frills of her red dress rising ever so slightly to reveal a small trail of rose petals floating behind her. "Remember Charm? Charisma? Most of all, Love. If you love your people and your people love you back, then as a ruler, you have nothing to concern yourself over. Through your people's eyes, you are always in the right."

Hmm, it was a unique approach to ruling, but not one that Jircniv couldn't see the benefits of. However, "What does that have to do with convincing barbarians to see reason?"

"Simple. All roads lead to Rome which means that all people can be considered a member of Rome!"

Ah yes, Rome. The Kingdom that has not once ever appeared on the map of the New World. Albeit, he hadn't exactly done much research in the New World's history to verify if the Empire Nero hailed from was real or fiction. It was too much work and the World's history had been scrambled and lost since the events of the Evil Gods descent. Even the Baharuth Empire's history was not dated back to more than a few hundred years because of the loss of relevant records.

Moving on, it was best to get the conversation back on track.

"What's the point of adopting such views?" He asked plainly. As a ruler, what good would it do to openly see other citizens outside of the Empire as 'members' of the Empire?

"Umu. Leave this discussion to me. Remember, Charm and Charisma!" Nero placed a hand over her chest and boisterously left in the direction of the Barbarian Leader's tent, arms swinging in tandem with her legs.

Gah, the hell was she doing? Unlike him, Nero didn't have any protective items or the status of Emperor of the Baharuth Empire to stop the Barbarians from attacking her should discussions deteriorate.

Well, he supposed that there was no harm in trying.

If they so much as touch her, he'd show them why he was called the Bloody Emperor.

Contrary to his belief, minutes passed on into hours with hardly a yell from the Barbarian tent.

Three hours later, and Nero walked out all smiles with the rest of the Barbarian Leaders differently behind her.

The boorish and headstrong tribal leaders at the borders of the westernmost Empire had suddenly become docile, their barbaric tribal armours and weapons once festooned to their bodies now harmlessly placed aside. Even the guards nearby shared his confusion.

What the hell did Nero do?

As if sensing his doubt, she leaned over to speak softly into his ear.

"I asked them to join the Empire and follow under a new cohort with the benefit of designating this land as their home and unit training ground that could only be entered with their permission," She enthusiastically whispered to him, her chin soon craning upwards in triumph. "Talent is not to be wasted or meaninglessly killed, but fostered under the right conditions."

The Barbarians seemed unable to hold back their excitement after what Nero had said to them.

"We pledge allegiance to the Empire! For Nero!"

His brow twitched, his eyes glancing at the way Nero was preening in delight from a position behind him. The childishness of her actions nearly caused his mouth to curve upwards but he had developed his poker face for years.

She beamed at him when she noticed his gaze. Of course, she noticed, her boisterous personality often masking the intellect she held within. That, or she really was too much of an attention seeker. She even puffed out her chest in preparation for praise and sulked when he turned away without another word to accept the Barbarian's declaration of joining the Empire.

At the same time, he thought deeply about Nero.

She was a mystery.

Yet one that he had no intention of solving quickly.

Her energy was life to the people, her methods of governing state so similar but different from his own. Where as he maintained order through strict discipline and law, she maintained order and influence through the praise of the masses.

The Empire and its residents loved her for it in the weeks, now months, that she'd spent in the empire. Even the stricter officials all hell bent on maintaining tradition could not help but crack a small smile in her presence. It was almost like a strict father bending to the whims of a wayward daughter who pouted whenever she felt wronged.

Her expressions were vivid and without deceit in the political mess that was the Empire. It was a breath of fresh air, hell, he'd even heard voices of descent wishing that he abdicates the throne for Nero's sake. Rather than be infuriated, he actually found himself considering it with the thought of 'if it was her, then surely…'

Slowly, methodically in her own way, she was helping to mend the wounds of the bloody purge that he had conducted against the corrupt members of state.

The violence-free subjugation of the barbarian tribes on the Empire's West borders was just one of many other achievements that she'd helped him fulfill.

When the barbarian leaders were finally out of sight, only then did he place a hand to pat Nero over the head in praise. Noteworthy achievements would never go unnoticed in his Empire.

She grinned merrily before bowing her head and slipping away from him in a playful curtsey as if saying 'as to be expected of me.'

Narcissist. The word came to mind as the seriousness of his expression broke away as he grunted in amusement at Nero's actions. For her, and only her, he would allow such behaviour in his presence.

So, keep dancing, keep smiling, O prideful flower of the Empire.

There was more work to be done.

He'd see about fulfilling that request she'd made of him to establish her own theater and a trade line with a Kingdom called Camelot.

* * *

Elsewhere, within the vibrant town of E-Rantel, Cu had finally learned to read and write. No longer would he be belittled by brats and children or looked down upon by other adults in E-Rantel's town square.

It only took him over a month to learn, and he considered that fast enough as it was. Moreover, his reputation was already well known amongst the people in the slums _and_ the town's Adventurers Guild which had seen him combat an entire army of Undead.

In all honesty, the Adventurer's Guild had offered him a position to officially join, but he had declined simply because there was no need to judge his strength by a type of metal. Strength varied per person, and his was a kind of strength that his teacher had warned him not to get in over his head about. Walking around with a high-level Adventurers Guild's emblem giving his enemies a rough estimate of his might, was not the most ideal method for him. More so when he preferred fighting to anything else, and a rank of Orichalcum would scare away potential prey. Worse, it wasn't even an accurate representation of his capabilities, only what the Adventurers on scene had estimated him to be.

Well, it wasn't like it mattered. He'd turned down the prospect of becoming an Adventurer because he felt freer going things at his own pace. Inadvertently, he'd already done what was required of him.

He was famous in E-Rantel as the Red Spectre due to his speed on the battlefield leaving only afterimages for ordinary warriors and citizens to see.

"Morning Father Cu!"

His mood inexplicably darkened as a group of passersby crossed the field in front of the abandoned church. More than the Red Spectre, the name 'Father Cu' was far more well known and he hated it. In fact, he liked to pretend that it didn't exist if the townsfolk around him would just stop rubbing it in.

Irritable, he glowered when the group disappeared by the curb lined with cobblestone.

"Yeah, you better run," he grunted before doing his best to quell his annoyance. He couldn't just attack people for cheerfully greeting him.

The other orphaned kids living in the orphanage had gotten accustomed to his presence and simply referred to him as Mr. Cu. It was a minor change to his title, but he'd learned to cherish the small things. Better than being called Father Cu all day like he'd been for the first few weeks.

He'd made progress. Speaking of progress, he looked to the distance where a cloud of dirt and gravel was forming up a storm in the air.

The two brats were coming back from their maiden hunting trip.

He'd been teaching both Charlotte and Chris [The Rune Witch's Spearmanship] for the better most part of the afternoon of everyday. Presently, they'd finally reached a level where they could now effectively hunt for themselves, probably in the adept range of proficiency. Alternatively, that meant that they could now support themselves and that he wouldn't be sticking around for much longer.

He hadn't gotten around to mentioning that tidbit yet, but he supposed it was better now then never. To begin with, he didn't have any intention of staying behind to play babysitter for the rest of his time. He already knew how to read and write, so he should be fine to travel on his own and save himself from any kind of embarrassment.

Now all that was left was to explain it to the two brats quickly making their way back.

[The Rune Witch's Spearmanship] did not just hone the spear skills of a wielder, but was designed to strengthen the body to accommodate for the force of the spear. In some ways, it was why he could basically possess the durability and stamina of a wild beast in battle. Besides, physical strength was the foundation of all weapon and martial arts.

Off in the distance, he could see both Charlotte and Chris bounding through the open fields with towering wild boars strapped to their backs by long rope. The fact that Chris and Charlotte could lift such large boars at their age reflected their future potential.

A good hunt it was.

The both of them seemed to be in optimal condition as well. Sure, there were a few bruises and cuts, but that was to be expected of the two's first hunt. They presently wore a pair of highly durable leather armour that he'd created and enchanted through Rune Magic. Nothing short of a Noble Phantasm should be able to pierce them, or perhaps a high-level weapon of some sort.

Charlotte's hair had grown long enough that she'd been forced to tie it back behind her hair in a pony tail while Chris simply cut his short with the blade end of his spear.

In all honesty, they looked like barbarians, but to Cu, they looked like young Celts. Perfect. His teacher would be proud-maybe. Nothing really phased her anymore anyway.

"Papa Cu!" Charlotte came running first, slightly ahead of Chris as they arrived at the location of the abandoned church, her expression bright. "We did it!"

The other orphaned children were there to great them and a couple of other adults arrived in order to wait to divide the meat. It was a customary practice.

Back when Cu used to hunt for everyone, he'd always bring back far more boars than what was necessary to feed the children. He always offered up the extra to the other people in the slums that it became something of a tradition.

Both Charlotte and Chris excitedly untied the boars on their back and began dividing the meat for everyone to have and cook for later meals. It was only after, that Charlotte and Chris ran up to meet Cu by the back of the Church where he'd been standing on his own.

His actions were odd for Chris and Charlotte because he'd generally be at the front to greet them after training, but both Charlotte and Chris's heart tightened when they noticed the burlap sack slung over his shoulder.

"W-What's going on? Papa Cu, what's with the bag? We have enough meat to go around so you don't have to go hunting very far anymore." Charlotte tried desperately to mask her unease, but she was giving herself away through her strangled tone.

Neither Charlotte or Chris were idiots. They'd learned to grow up fast in their tough childhood.

"You're leaving," Chris said gradually.

"N-No he's not. What are you saying?" Charlotte shook Chris on the shoulder before looking towards Cu. "P-Papa Cu, why aren't you saying anything?"

Cu scratched the back of his head while frowning. "Well, it's because your brother's right. I've long since overstayed my welcome and with this successful hunt, the both of you have proved your ability to sustain yourselves. Neither of you two brats need me anymore."

Charlotte's eyes dilated. "T-That's not true. There's still a lot we have to learn! We can't even touch you when we spar!"

Cu shook his head. "That's different because you can't use me as a benchmark for your progress. At this point, I have nothing left to teach. How strong you both become will be a test of tenacity, talent, and capability. The next time I come back, perhaps you'll actually be able to graze me?"

"…"

Charlotte didn't respond. She could see that her words were proving ineffective. To begin with, the only reason that she didn't want Cu to go was because he was her only father figure. It was the same for Chris, but he was just being less vocal. If one looked at how tightly he was gripping the spear that Cu had gifted him, one could tell that he wasn't fairing any better than his twin.

Cu sighed before leaning down and ruffling both Charlotte and Chris's hair. "Relax. Partings aren't meant to be sad. If you're truly my students then look ahead and see what battles and adversaries await you. From there, learn to overcome them for that is a true mark of a Celt. Now buck up."

Cu stood back up on his feet and straightened his back, watching as Charlotte covered her eyes with and arm and Chris sucked in a breath. "Thanks for everything," he said.

Cu grinned. "If you really want to thank me in any way, then prove to me that my teaching you was not a wasted effort."

"Promise to come back," Charlotte wiped away the tears over her eyes. "Promise."

Cu scratched at his chin. "Fine. I promise to visit the next time I have time. Now take care, the both of you."

Charlotte swallowed audibly while Chris remained ramrod straight while Cu started walking away into the distance.

"Take care!" Charlotte yelled.

Cu merely waved a hand behind him before his form faded at the apex of the hill surrounding the slums.

Once a good distance away and utterly alone, Cu tossed aside the burlap sack and got down to business. In all honestly, he hadn't been given any indication to leave his position in E-Rantel, rather, it was better for him to stay there and further establish himself. However, the matter that he'd been delaying for several weeks now took precedence.

The brats could now defend themselves and the people near them, so it was time to start his own Hunt.

Not only was he skilled fighter, but in his memory of hunting within the woods and fields of Ireland, he was also an exceptional tracker. Like a dog on the scent of a trail, once he caught a whiff of prey, he would never let it go. More so when said prey dared to first bare its fangs at the people under his protection and then at him himself.

He'd seen the figure of the attacker who'd controlled the army of Undead several weeks ago. Better yet, he'd used a rune to mark his assailant's signature.

All that he had to do now, was pursue.

Bending over by a small rock, he inscribed a small rune and watched as the rock levitated off the ground and began speeding a short-ways forward.

He followed as it led him through forested regions, hills, and plains.

If it wasn't for his build and constitution, he probably would have had grown exhausted through the distance travelled. Regardless, he soon ended up at what looked like a buried mound of 'something.'

It was well hidden beneath shifted earth and gravel, but unnatural changes in the terrain couldn't escape his keen senses. The warding magic cast in the area also had no effect on him do to his anti-magic properties which automatically repelled low to mid level magic and skills.

His eyes narrowed on further inspection.

Was that a tomb?

Partially buried, he could make out a white mausoleum-like structure.

He paused before crushing the stone that he'd engraved a rune upon. It would seem he'd already arrived at the destination his assailant must have had been taking refuge within. Tombs were quite fitting for one who wields the authority to command undead.

It was probably best to report his finding.

Unlike Players and normal NPC's in YGGDRASIL, Cu and his fellow comrades were Raid Bosses. They'd never had access to communication scrolls or general Player items because they'd never had a need for them. Raid Bosses were 'stand alone' enemies that required several Players working together to defeat. If Raid Bosses could communicate and call for reinforcement from other Raid Bosses, the game would have had been considered too broken.

However, that didn't mean that 'Cu' as a person did not have any means to communicate.

He shared an art with his teacher known as Rune Magic.

He knelt down onto a knee and using magic funneled to his index finger, he began writing symbols in the air.

He couldn't send anything to extensive such as paragraphs, but knowing his relationship with his teacher, she'd be able to understand him regardless.

 _Undead._

 _Tomb._

 _Investigating_.

Location? Now came the hard part.

He scratched the back of his head. Although he'd learned to read and write from Chris and Charlotte, that didn't mean that he learned any basic geography. He'd seen the map of the New World, but he wasn't exactly adept enough to locate himself on that map. The feeling was akin to camping in the wild with no suitable landmarks to orient himself with.

 _Somewhere near E-Rantel._

His teacher would probably scold him for sending something so vague but give him a break. He was a Fighter, a Hero, a Lancer. In no way was he ever well known for scholarly skill. He'd already struggled to learn the New World's language as it was.

His report done, it was time to scout ahead and see just what he was dealing with here.

With a single bound, he found itself at the foot of the mausoleum. It reeked with the odour of rotting flesh and decayed bone.

Definitely a place for the Undead.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could already see a few scores of walking skeletons wandering aimlessly through the mausoleum's inner halls. He proceeded onwards. They weren't much of a threat anyway and the aura that Gae Bolg exuded naturally warded away the frightened skeletons.

What Cu failed to understand was that he'd just entered something of 'Dungeon,' the owner of which instantly became aware of an intrusion and immediately took action upon realizing just _who_ had trespassed.

Cu felt a sudden shift in the air, his beast-like intuition warning him of the change.

Something wasn't quite right, prompting him to raise his guard. His eyes darted left and right for any indication of a powerful enemy, but what he didn't account for was that the ground under his feet would suddenly disappear.

He fell with little room to reorient himself, causing him to crash into the dirt of a…colosseum?

Inspecting the area around, he came to a swift understanding.

A separate dimension within an underground space.

This tomb was appearing to be far more difficult to investigate than he had initially assumed. It didn't seem like a one-person kind of job anymore.

Well, would you look at that.

His gaze snapped up to the hole between floors that he'd fallen through. It directly closed from high up in the air. Not like he was going to complain at this point, but fuck him. It was always him.

"Cu Chulainn, the Hound of Ulster."

A voice suddenly sounded from behind him, the pungent scent of death wafting through his nose. It was familiar in that it reminded him of the Lord-Class monsters which stood at the top of the hierarchy of Undead within the Land of Shadows.

He turned around, any traces of amusement in enjoying a challenge fading away into black.

Low tier Undead and fools who thought to full of themselves were one thing, but the Lich which appeared in front of him was something else entirely.

The Lich was donned in luxurious robes and a flowing mantle with dragon bone shoulder plates. In his grip, a staff of sorts that he could instinctively feel was dangerous.

"You should not have come here." The Lich's voice echoed, deep and emotionless.

He shouldn't have come?

He gripped his spear, jaw tightening.

Perhaps before, but not anymore.

He couldn't just leave. From the moment that he'd seen his opponent's identity, there was already no changing the outcome. Undead, wraiths, demonic beasts, and resentful spirits should not belong in the land of the living. This was the core foundation of the Land of Shadows and the very reason that his teacher had never been able to die whilst bound to her oaths of protecting the Gate of the other world. As his teacher's student, he would uphold his teacher's vows in her place as was his duty as a Disciple of the Rune Witch of the Land of Shadows.

He owed his teacher too much and he figured that he'd have to fight his way out anyway.

She'd endured enough on her own. Let the disciple help ease the burden.

One man. One Army. The Shield of a Country. It's Child of Light.

He brandished his spear, red magical energy erupting from up and down its shaft and illuminating the crimson of his eyes.

"Foul Lich who hath escaped the Gates of DunScaith." His muscles bulged, veins popping over his forehead as he lowered his body into a forward stance. "For the sake of this spear's namesake!"

The wind danced, the ground beneath his feet breaking into web-like cracks as primal ferocity roared from deep within him.

 _A True Warrior of the Ulster Cycle._

"I. Will. Purge. You."

* * *

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 **(Let me know if there were any typos, I was bit sick while writing this)**


	22. Heroes of the Capital: Part 6

Cu's declaration was not a sign of over confidence or bravado. It was a promise. A Warrior's oath that he would stop at nothing to fulfill.

Wind began to pick up in a storm around him, deftly blowing across the forested area that he found himself trapped within. How ridiculous. A forest and plains inside an Undead Mausoleum. However, he wasn't all that opposed to it.

Yes. This feeling was one that he'd not felt in ages.

The calling of spring, the beginning of youth.

Distant memories that were from a time long ago began to play out within the recesses of his mind. Despite, the presence of enemies in front of him, his eyes momentarily closed.

The sound of the swaying grass, and the chill of battle boring down over his shoulders. The calm hidden within the desperation of a warrior people in an era of turmoil.

Take our peace, kill our countrymen, but there were things that no enemy could ever take from an Irish warrior.

 _It was pride._

Hands balled tightly into fists around the shaft of his spear, veins bulging over his skin as his muscles tensed in preparation for combat. The ground was quaking beneath him, obvious signs of a large contingency of enemies rapidly approaching his location.

 _It was honour._

Never back down. Never surrender. Fire ignited from within him, burning strong and flickering with the fury of a torch in the night.

 _It was home._

More than anything, and for Cu himself, was a stronger reason above all.

 _It was duty._

His eyes snapped open, crimson irises displaying a ferocity from a bygone era. Duty was his reason, and purpose was what separated him from a blood thirsty barbarian.

Be it one enemy, five, fifty, or hundreds more, he would not falter. It mattered not who or what he faced; he had his obligations. He was the man who stopped an entire army. He was the Hound of Chulainn. Warrior of the rolling hills and plains and Hero of the most boorish yet earnest people in the world.

 _Come._

His spear was ready. His body coiled into a spring, ready to show all the might of a son of Lugh…and they would know the tenacity of Ireland's finest warrior.

The undead came first. Low ranked and in hordes. They wore tattered breaches and torn armour, their hollow visages lit by dull crimson orbs constituting as eyes.

Decrepit undead. Surely, they could feel it even in their inhumanity. The curse upon his spear.

A barbed spear of death forged from the branches of white birch and hardened into deadly perfection through the runecraft of the Rune Witch herself, the Guardian of the Gates of DunScaith.

Gae Bolg, the Heart Seeking Spear.

The undead faltered in front of him, hesitating while a momentarily flicker of doubts filtered into the mind of the Lich who observed from a distance. Undead did not hesitate. They feared nothing, and felt nothing.

This was different.

Cu's eyes stared up into the crimson orbs of the Lich, wondering if the Lich could feel it too.

Undead do not fear death, because they were already creatures beyond life. However, Cu did not intend on simply 'killing' them. He was his teacher's proxy when it came to overseeing the regulations of the Land of Shadows. Undead that he defeated had a one-way ticket back into the gates of the Land of Shadows where they belonged imprisoned for an eternity.

If the enemy wouldn't come to him, then he'd come to them.

Feet digging into the ground, he propelled himself forward and began a slaughter.

The hollow echo of his spear while breaking the bones and caving the skulls of the lesser undead before him echoed out for all to hear.

His beast-like senses and reaction speed allowed him to dodge or bypass any attacks thrown at him with little effort.

His fingers twirled his spear loosely before thrusting with such power that he pierced through the ribcages of three skeletons at once before hurling them away with a single wide swing. There was no stopping him, and using wave tactics was hardly working.

He could do this all day.

The Lich must have understood this too because Cu suddenly felt his body grow heavier and heavier. His movements slowed and his thinking process felt addled. He scoffed.

A curse? Was that all?

'Disengage.'

He activated his Disengage skill, instantly clearing the debuff and healing the cuts and bruises on his body.

"Grasp Heart."

Cu felt a hand trying to constrict around his chest and directly to his heart. He momentarily stiffened; forcibly leaving an opening for the undead to exploit, but they turned into shattered pieces moments later when his anti-death properties quickly kicked in and he swung out with his spear.

"Bastard," Cu grimaced while looking at the Lich floating with a levitation spell above casting death magic on him. "If you see yourself as any kind of warrior, then do not resort to such underhanded means."

The Lich's eerie gaze remained impassive. "Fool. I am not a warrior. I am a Magic Caster. Do you think me bullheaded enough to play on my weaknesses?"

Cu brandished his spear in a full circle and cleared away the last of the lesser undead around him. "Would you believe me if I said that such Magic Casters exist?" Cu spat on the ground in contempt. "You aren't even the strongest of them."

The Lich hardly responded to the barb, but the two that appeared near the Lich were clearly incensed. One was a horned woman in a white dress intricately interwoven with web-like golden threads around her chest and waist areas. At the small of the woman's back sprouted a large pair of black bird wings slightly curled around her lithe figure.

"You dare," the woman was visibly seething, her long silk-like black hair framing her face rising up into the air like snakes. " _YOU Dare belittle the strength of a Supreme Being!"_

The other man wearing a striped orange business suit who stood near the woman adjusted his circle-framed classed over the bridge of his nose. He seemed utterly calm and composed; however, Cu could feel the wrath silently radiating from the man's body. His anger was on a different level from the woman's outrage.

It was always the silent ones who could invoke the most apprehension. If the woman's anger was born of outrage, then the bespectacled man's was born of irreconcilable fury.

Just as the woman looked moments away from charging at Cu, the Lich raised an arm not towards the woman, but towards the man whose hands had already morphed into clawed talons. "Demiurge, Albedo, do you truly wish to humiliate me?"

The words that the Lich spoke caused Albedo and Demiurge to instantly pale in panic and work themselves up into a fluster.

"L-Lord Ainz, that was not my intention, this bug, just dared to speak so disrespectfully that I…" Albedo's excuses died in her throat while looking at the hard gaze of her lord. She deflated and slumped her shoulders as a sign of her submission. "I apologize," she bit down on her lip all the while glaring at Cu who Ainz had kept distracted by summoning a few dozen more undead.

Meanwhile, Demiurge resisted the urge to berate himself. How could he have not seen it earlier? His Lord was testing them. Not only did his Lord recently give all members of Nazarick detailed information of key figures to be weary of, but now one just coincidently invaded their tomb? The premise itself already sounded suspicious. He should have realized it from there.

If anything, the sheer amount of precautions that he'd seen his Lord demonstrate in the earlier moments before confronting Cu must have been a demonstration for them to follow in future battles. Fully buff one's self, create traps in the terrain, and never play to an opponent's advantages.

"I apologize, Lord Ainz," Demiurge bowed his head. "I was foolish to not have known your intentions earlier."

Ainz seemed to freeze upon hearing Demiurge while Albedo looked scandalized at her present intellectual inability. Her eyes were all but screaming for Demiurge to explain, however, Demiurge felt that he'd shamed himself enough to his Lord and simply wouldn't elaborate at the moment. This decision caused Albedo no end of stress, but Demiurge was determined. Especially when Lord Ainz gave him a 'nod' of sincere praise.

"As expected of you Demiurge. I had hoped that Albedo would see it too, but it heartens me to have someone understand me so well."

Demiurge practically beamed at the praise while Albedo looked like she'd suffered a devastating blow, her eyes practically watering as her expression fell. Then came anger and bitterness, all forcibly concealed behind neutral features. Her anger was directed at Demiurge for not sharing what he'd discovered and her bitterness was pointed at herself for not being as smart.

Of course, Demiurge noticed the look in Albedo's eyes and felt conflicted, but he'd rather take a small grudge from Albedo than allow his Lord to perceive him as incompetent.

Ainz didn't notice the interaction between the two.

"This isn't a fight for the both of you. Instead, I want you both to observe in a learning experience." The aura around Ainz grew serious when Cu soon defeated all the summoned undead without difficulty. "Cu Chulainn is not an enemy to take lightly. One mistake can not only be the death of you, but the death of the whole party."

Ainz didn't mention it, but he'd seen the way that Cu had propped his spear into a stabbing pose. The moment that either he, Albedo, or Demiurge had entered range, the spear would have thrusted ruthlessly. Its anti-Evil properties would do more than just land a debilitating wound, it may as well be lethal. Everyone in Nazarick had Evil alignment. Sebas may be different but the head butler in charge of the Pleiades was currently out.

"Remember, never let an enemy's words goad you into an unfavourable situation. It's a key element of PvP and Boss Raiding." Ainz took the time to advise.

Albedo and Demiurge mulled over the concept, but didn't dare wish to disappoint their Lord a second time by admitting that they didn't quite understand what Ainz meant, therefore they simply nodded.

Ainz returned his full attention on the battle.

Everything starts now.

He'd casted all his buffs and made his preparations from the very moment that he'd discovered that Cu had infiltrated the Great Tomb.

When Raiding a Boss, various classes needed to fulfill specific roles. Damage per second, healing, buffs, debuffs, magic, all of it had to be taken account and accommodated for. Every role had its purpose, and not filling in a role was the same as trying to tie a wild beast with a broken chain.

Ainz was a Magic Class, and had the most experience dealing against enemy Raid Bosses and sub bosses. He would lead the flow of events and direct the actions of his present Floor Guardians in order to secure victory. This would be as much of a learning experience for his Floor Guardians as it would be for him. After all, this wasn't just a game anymore and Ainz had no intention of letting his cherished NPCs die or testing out what happens if _he_ were to die.

Mare and Aura were already nearby altering the terrain and gathering the tamed beasts for attack. They would play supporter roles.

Demiurge and Albedo will focus on attack and damage. Although they could substitute as Tanks, it didn't play into their specialities. That speciality belonged to another.

The Guardian of the Fifth Floor, Cocytus.

* * *

Right before Cu's eyes, a lumbering four-armed white giant of an insectoid manifested just as he cleared all the paltry Undead out of existence.

A beetle?

Cu eyed his opponent with scrutiny, his lips slowly curling into a grin as the giant beetle armed itself with weapons exuding the chill of hoarfrost from their blades. Finally, something of a challenge even if it was another monster.

The beetle suddenly surprised Cu when it inclined its head and gave a fighter's salute to an opponent.

"I. Am. Cocytus."

No. Not a monster, but a Warrior.

Cu shifted his mentality toward his opponent who showed him a fighter's courtesy.

"Cu Chulainn, the Hound of Ulster," he gave his name and assumed his stance.

He'd held himself back in order to gather intelligence on the enemy, but no longer. It would seem that the Lich, Ainz, had gathered all available combatants for the battle.

Good. They were all together.

No more playing around.

He tapped the butt of his spear with a foot to launch it into the air before he grabbed it with his right hand. Wind whipped around him, tendrils of magical power scorching the dirt around his feet. The vein-like patterns found over the shaft of his spear began to pulse.

The red spines are the same as thorns.

 _Activate._

He cast his skills and magic for the first time since the beginning of the fight; two of which gave him the nickname of immortal during field raids.

'Battle Continuation A.'

'Protection from Arrows B.'

He felt his skills settle in on his body in the form of a thin layer of energy blanketing over him.

"Prepare yourself," he said one word of warning to Cocytus. From this point on, there would no longer be a need for talk.

Prey and Predator. That was all that life ever was, and if there was one thing that life had taught him, it was better to be a Predator.

Red eyes narrowed before Cu's form utterly vanished. A howl in the wind, Ireland's greatest warrior unleashed.

Cocytus's senses worked on overdrive. Hard as it was for the armoured beetle to believe, he could feel that Cu would have no trouble bypassing his defences. Think. _Think_.

Cocytus's battle senses roared at him, seemingly slowing time in order to absorb as much battlefield information as possible. Although it appeared as if Cu had disappeared as a work of some form of tier magic, this clearly wasn't the case. There had been no fluctuation in mana in the air and Cocytus would not doubts his own eyes. Cu did not look the type to be a Magic Caster.

Listen. Feel.

Cocytus could see tufts of dirt forming clouds over the ground. Nearby, he could also hear the groaning of bark over the nearby trees in the vicinity. All pointed to a single conclusion.

Cu hadn't disappeared, but rather, his speed was plain monstrous.

Cocytus felt it before he could even react; the sheer bloodlust that appeared at his back. Suddenly he knew that he was going to die. His reaction speed was not fast enough in the least, and based on what lord Ainz had written about the specifics of Cu's spear, it would be a wound that his natural armour would not be able to block.

All kinds of defensive skills came to the forefront of Cocytus's mind, but cast times were all too long. There was nothing that he could do as he felt the cold sharpness of steel thrusting towards his left breast area.

"Grasp Heart."

Lord Ainz immediately acted.

Cocytus couldn't see what was happening behind him, but he sure as well heard it before seeing it for himself when he turned around.

"Bastard!" Cu was momentarily frozen mid-attack.

That's right. Do as Lord Ainz had instructed. He wasn't fighting alone. He had a role to serve.

"Reality Slash!" Cocytus held nothing back and unleashed a tenth-tier spell he'd been directed by Lord Ainz to prepare in advance.

Reality Slash was a skill that distorted space itself. All magic and physical defence was useless against it. Moreover, Cocytus as a Warrior-Class could utilize it to far more effectiveness than most other Floor Guardians.

Cu at such a close rang couldn't possibly raise up any form of defence of counter.

He didn't need to.

A flicker of indignation crossed Cu's features as his body literally blurred where Reality Slash was meant to hit him.

Ainz was unperturbed by the result, but the Floor Guardians were still taken aback despite already reading the effects of Protection from Arrows.

Three Absolute Evasions.

Worse, one would have to make Cu use them all up in the first place, and that meant catching Cu to begin with. The realization caused an air of trepidation to spread among the Floor Guardians. Even more so when Albedo and Demiurge, unlike Cocytus, had seen the lethality of the strike Cu had been preparing to skewer Cocytus with.

It aims for the heart.

There was no hesitation. It was only a matter of fact.

Cu was every bit as dangerous as Ainz had described him to be and the man didn't even look phased. He appeared more frustrated if anything.

He tried to back away from Cocytus's strike range, but the ground beneath his feet suddenly turned into sand, prompting him to lose any leverage that he had.

Cocytus struck again but to the same result.

This time, Cu grimaced. His Beast-like senses alerted him to more enemies hiding in the distance.

He pole-vaulted with his spear up into the foliage of the nearby trees where a sudden flock of birds attacked him and forced him back to the ground which attempted to swallow him. His present frustration was quickly mounting into annoyance.

Someone was shifting the ground and causing tamed beasts to attack him from the shadows. It clearly wasn't Ainz because Cu had been keeping a careful eye on his most dangerous opponent.

Cu had had enough.

"Sorry," Cu abruptly apologized to Cocytus. "This may not be a proper duel and I'm perfectly fine with fighting you all at once; however, if you are a true warrior like myself, then you should understand my opinion about those unwilling to show themselves during battle."

Cu's expression hardened without sympathy. Warriors often kill such cowards first if granted the opportunity. What more did Cu need to say?

With a click of his tongue, Cu disappeared just as Cocytus felt a swell of trepidation well up from within him. However, Ainz was the one who was truly the most concerned while hurriedly following after Cu. Unlike Cu, Ainz knew exactly where Cu was going. The only difference was speed.

Cu was too fast.

He arrived in the area where he'd sensed the presence of his attackers but suddenly balked when he met a pair of frightened eyes.

Children? He had to fight children?

One child, the girl dressed in a dress shirt and skirt cowered behind her elder brother who was wearing a fancy looking tuxedo. From the pointiness of their ears and tan of their skin, they were clearly dark elves from what Cu knew from his database.

The hell was this? He gritted his teeth, but the attack that he'd lashed out with since the beginning was already in motion. Forcibly redirecting his momentum, he set himself into motion. Children or not, they were acting as his enemy. Still, he shifted the blade of his spear at the last moment and ruthlessly sent out a kick instead, knocking the children unconscious and face first into the ground. They weren't undead. More than likely they must have had been under the Lich's influence.

"You _YOU_!"

An army of Undead, hundreds if not thousands of them manifested to life.

Cu looked up to see Ainz glowering from above while looking fixedly at the downed dark elves. It was the most infuriated that Cu had ever seen Ainz. The children must have been important tools, and yet the anger disappeared as if it were never there.

Cu remained unperturbed. "Come close, I _dare_ you," he goaded.

"Grasp Heart."

Damn it. One trick pony. Cu was met by the same attack while Cocytus, Demiurge, and Albedo took the time to rendezvoused near Ainz.

"The same attack again?" Cu had had enough. "Do you really think instant death curses are going to work?"

"Grasp Heart."

Ainz fired the same attack regardless in order to slow Cu's movement speed down. No, Cu knew better. Ainz was forcing him to waste his Protection from Arrows skill.

Cu was too fast to be hit by any ordinary attack; however, Grasp Heart would activate as long as Cu was within range.

The bastard. Fine then. It's they who've sealed their fates.

The horde of undead that Ainz had summoned made a wall of bones that attempted to march forward in order to reacquire the two Dark Elves. Moreover, Cocytus, Albedo, and Demiurge were now beginning to actively participate under Ainz's instruction.

Cu would have the current arrangements no other way. They were directly opposite to him at this point, and although such a strategy may have had worked in YGGDRASIL where Cu was only limited to his in-game mechanics, this simply wasn't the case with the current him.

Who did they think that they were dealing with?

Red energy suddenly exuded up and down the shaft of his spear as Cu angled himself into a running crouch.

Gathering up in a group? He clicked his tongue in contempt.

Bad idea.

* * *

Ainz had been overseeing and involving himself in the progress of the fight since the beginning. All the Floor Guardians present in the Great Tomb were present aside from the Guardians of the fourth and ninth floors.

It was to be a learning experience, something that could be done within the safety of their own territory, yet when did things start to go so wrong? Of course, he'd tried to negotiate with Cu, however, just like in the game, Cu's affinity to undead was basically on the level of sworn enemy.

There was no talking to be had.

Cu was a monster. There were no other words to describe him. Unlike in YGGDRASIL where Ainz had had to form experienced parties to combat against a field-boss such as Cu, Ainz presently had no such luxury.

He had to deal with Cu himself using the help of the NPC's of the Great Tomb of Nazarick. Fortunately, of all the places that Cu would have decided to fight him at, it was within the Great Tomb itself.

This was the main reason for Ainz's earlier confidence.

The Floor Guardians were experienced against defending against enemy Players, and he'd instructed them to treat Cu as such.

Cocytus, Floor Guardian of the Fifth Floor of Nazarick was the first to engage as planned while supported by Aura Bella Fiora and Mare Bello Fiore who acted from a safe distance.

Albedo and Demiurge, the Floor Guardians of the tenth and seventh floor were to respectively observe the situation and intervene if things went too far. Both had been taking note from Ainz whenever he'd cast a long-distance spell on Cu.

Ainz himself remained unaware of the awe that Albedo and Demiurge were directing on him. He was too busy strategizing.

He had the home-field advantage, _and_ he had all the information that he'd ever need regarding Cu Chulainn, field boss of the Land of Shadows. This was winnable. It was _supposed_ to be winnable. He just had to play it perfectly and hope that his Floor Guardians could endure against Cu's assault. Moreover, Cu was not receiving any field buffs from the Land of Shadows.

More often than not, the field buffs that added benefits to a boss were what truly made them difficult to combat against in game. In this case, the parameter buff of the Land of Shadows that dramatically increased Cu's basic attributes were not in effect. Leaving Cu to fight with only his standard boss-level attributes.

The strength that Cu was displaying was only at half of what he had been capable of in game; however, Ainz couldn't help but feel that something was off about 'Cu.'

Sure, Cu no longer had the buff from the Land of Shadows, but the general air and feel of him was several times more dangerous than his robotic movements in YGGDRASIL. The buff from the Land of Shadows only increased Cu's parameters which meant that Cu's skills and talents were still present.

The skill 'Protection from Arrows' was going to be a pain in the form of three absolute evasions from any physical or magical attacks. Piercing damage was the only method to bypass the skill, but as Cu had already proven in battle, he would not stay still and let such attacks strike him.

Grasp Heart had been the only answer available to Ainz. Its relative mana cost wasn't too high, and it all but guaranteed a hit if Cu was in the effective range. Three Grasp Hearts would nullify Cu's 'Protection from Arrows,' but if he wasn't fast enough to deal true damage to Cu, Cu's 'Protection from Arrows' would quickly refresh.

It was a damn cycle of frustration. Worse, the damn monster was too fast.

Ainz could barely keep track of Cu's movements even when he tried.

This was not going to be an easy fight.

On top of 'Protection from Arrows,' Cu also had two other skills: 'Battle Continuation' and 'Disengage.' All three skills combined and Cu was basically immortal.

'Battle Continuation' would revive Cu from any death blow or sequence of attacks, while 'Disengage' would remove any debuffs and simultaneously heal Cu's injuries. Give Cu enough time to breath, and he had the means to fully restore his health. His stamina and survivability were ridiculous such that Cu could outlast a Player who'd invested all skill points into endurance and vitality.

Did Ainz mention short cooldowns yet? Because Cu's skill cooldown times were bullshit. They were too short.

Bitter memories from past raids in YGGDRASIL caused vindictiveness to swell up from within Ainz, yet despite all of Cu's abilities, he knew how to counter Cu.

Most of all, he had to make Cu pay for daring to harm the legacies left behind by his cherished guild mates.

"Be careful and ready area of effect attacks! Once he moves, don't let him rest for a single second!" He ordered, casting death magic from the tip of his fingers. "If you have piercing skills, use those first!"

Even with all of Cu's skills combined, there would still be a window of opportunity when all of Cu's skill would be on cooldown. The trick was finding that window. In the game, Cu's movement would become more rushed or hurried as an indication, but in this case, Cu was giving nothing away.

It was another difference between YGGDRASIL and the current reality.

All things considered, Ainz was certain that a discrepancy existed. An ill premonition took root in his mind while watching Cu and willing his undead to take Mare and Aura to safety.

 _What was he doing?_

Cu's current positioning and demeanor were nothing like he'd ever seen in the game. The aura exuding off of him was almost menacing, and if not for the emotional inhibition of the Overlord-class, Ainz knew that he would have been petrified with terror.

The air began to chill, violent winds dancing in wake of a torch-like magical energy suffusing Cu's form.

 _A skill activation?_

Ainz didn't know. Nothing was making sense. If he used his Floor Guardians as any indication, then the powers and skills in YGGDRASIL were directly transferred into the New World. In which case, why was Cu different? What was he doing?

 _'Greater Magic Barrier.'_

 _'Triplet Maximize Magic.'_

 _'Mass Warp,' deploying._

Ainz would take no chances, but Cu wasn't giving him any time to breathe.

When Cu moved by directly leaping into the air, the sheer magical power converging into the tip of his spear was mind numbing.

The attack was beyond anything that Ainz ever knew that the cursed barbed-spear was capable of.

" **Gae Bolg**!"

The spear was thrown. The world turned red as the tip of the spear became two, then four, eight, then into the hundreds. There was no escape.

The anti-evil properties of Gae Bolg all but guaranteed that all evil-aligned would be wiped out due to the increased damage. Everyone would die.

Ainz acted, instantly activating his prepared spells and warping his Floor Guardians and himself to safety. From where Ainz warped towards, he felt the greatest sense of danger he'd ever experienced in the New World.

There was nothing left of the entire forest section of the Sixth Floor of Nazarick. It was a wasteland of splintered wood and ash drifting in the wind.

A flash of red in the air, and Ainz found his gaze drawn to the sight of Cu leisurely re-equipping his spear. The damn monster didn't even look winded. Worse, from the slight sheen of magical energy that he could sense around Cu's body, Cu's skills had obviously reached their cooldown times and were deployed again.

For once, Ainze didn't care.

 _No. NO. How many times could Cu pull off such an attack?!_

That question alone took up the majority of Ainz's focus. The fact that he didn't know the answer only further fueled his desperation.

"Greater Bone Cage."

"Greater Silence."

He acted immediately. He'd casted a binding spell. Different from standard attacks which Protection from Arrows could evade, status spells could still hit. Before Cu could use Disengage, Ainz had effectively silenced him.

He couldn't let Cu do such an attack again.

* * *

Retrained by the shackles of bones that erupted around him, Cu could see Ainz and the Floor Guardians that had managed to dodge his attack preparing various attack spells aimed towards him.

Well, shit. This was bad wasn't it.

He could feel the silencing spell surrounding him and preventing him from Disengaging from Ainz's restraints, but so what? Was he that weak that he had to rely on a skill to escape a precarious situation? If so, his Legend would have been laughable.

"I am Cu Chulainn!" He resisted against the confines of bone that shackled him in place.

First were his arms that tensed and pulled, causing cracks to spread over his restraints. Then came his legs that were over twice the strength of his arms. More cracks and splinters began to appear.

"Son of Lugh!" He was a Demi-God. The blood that ran in his veins demanded that he always exhibit his full strength against enemies. He'd wrestled a dog to death when he was a wee boy. This was nothing!

"Disciple of the Rune Witch!"

She who'd taught him all that he knew would be disappointed if he had trouble now. Moreover, she always did lecture him about contingency plans.

Very well.

He moved a finger and began tracing patterns of light into the air that soon disappeared with a flicker into his body. Runecraft. Another skill that gave Ainz another feeling of foreboding in the distance.

Cu hardly cared.

"Shield of Ireland!"

He wrested his left arm free then his right before twirling his spear and shattering the restraints on his legs.

Azure light exploded from out of him like a torch.

"And you have not seen the limits of my strength!"

Crimson light once again emitted from Cu's spear, dying it in a potent blood lust. Ainz had escaped his attack before, but not anymore. This was going to be different. He had no need to throw it any longer.

He would show his true worth.

He could hear the phantom beating of a heart from his ears. Yes. This was it. He never missed his target. Quick and painless.

His body took the posture of eons ago; back in the time of the rolling plains of Ireland amidst the dancing of the Reeds.

His spear was held with both hands, his upper body leaned forward.

In the distance, Ainz shuddered. Death was something that he was well acquainted with as a Lich and Overlord, and he could practically feel it coming from Cu's direction.

No something was wrong. Very wrong.

Ainz had to stall Cu somehow or at the very least stop whatever attack Cu was planning. Otherwise, he feared that he'd have to see the death of one of his beloved NPCs. They were all he had left and he'd be damned if he saw them harmed. He'd rather die first.

"Grasp Heart."

Nothing.

"Grasp Heart."

 _Stall! C'mon stall!_

"Grasp Heart."

Cu wasn't flinching. He was fully intent on releasing whatever attack he was preparing.

"Grasp Heart," Ainz activated one last time on impulse, a bonny hand reaching forward.

The skill was casted with minimal expectation, but the result proved far from expected.

"What kind of bullshit is this?" Cu spat out a glob of blood from his mouth, his eyes growing bloodshot.

 _Fuck Yes! YEESSSS!_

"Luck," Ainz answered coldly. Inwardly, Ainz was celebrating. He couldn't believe the attack had actually worked especially against the anti-death chances that all YYGDRASIL field bosses like Cu possessed.

Death Chance although small, did not mean impossible. There was no such thing as Death immunity in YGGDRASIL unless your name happened to be the First Hassan, and Cu was no Hassan.

"There's just no way," Cu staggered at the reply. "Cursed Witch Morrigan, always laughing at my expense. Is this a joke to you, bitch of a Goddess I know you can hear me!"

In the distance, Ainz breathed a sigh of relief. Grasp Heart was an instant death skill for any of the living. Nothing could survive without a beating heart, and even better, Cu had been under a silencing spell preventing him from using Battle Continuation in order to revive from a lethal attack.

This was victory.

Ainz had done it, and based on the looks of awe and admiration on his Floor Guardian's faces, he had not sullied their image of him. He was Ainz Ooal Gown, and he knew no defeat.

Despite being caught up in a feeling of elation, Ainz soon became aware of an ominous sign.

How was he still standing?

Ainz couldn't believe it. Cu was still standing, back straight and expression defiant. Blood was seeping from his mouth and his body was trembling from the exertion of keeping himself up. If he was still in YGGDRASIL, Cu should have had turned into mots of data crystals by now as his health bar reached zero.

"I'll. Finish. Him. My. Lord." Cocytus spoke up and dashed forward. "He. Deserves. Respect. As. A. Warrior."

"NO! Don't get close!" Ainz's warning came too late.

Cu abruptly took on a familiar stance, veins popping over his forehead.

"You can stab me, cut me into pieces and throw me into the wind! However!" Rage mixed with indignation in Cu's voice. "I _refuse_ to die a coward's underhanded death! I am a _Warrior_ and I will die as one!"

This was it.

This would be the end.

One Final Howl.

If he had only a single regret, it was that he'd failed in his duties and had failed to carry out the only request that his teacher had ever asked of him.

 _'Sorry.'_

A finger discreetly traced runic patterns in the air before his expression hardened.

He wouldn't be going down alone.

 _It doesn't matter where you are, or where you run._

" **Gae-** " Take this last parting gift.

A barbed Spear of Death.

" **Bolg!** "

* * *

A pair of red eyes abruptly opened revealing a breath-taking face framed by long strands of lavender coloured hair. It was a woman who looked no older than her early twenties and wearing a form fitting purple battle suit resembling spandex.

The room that she was in was dark, barely illuminated by a few candles.

If one looked closely, one would realize the striking resemblance that her attire had with Cu's own. After all, she had been the one to make it. Ridiculous as it may have looked, it offered more protection than any metal or leather could ever provide.

 _Cu._

A name appeared in the woman's mind, her teeth gritting in her mouth as a shudder travelled down her body.

How many times do they come and go into her life?

Heroes they were, and proud of them she was, but did they not consider what it felt like to lose them all one after the other until there was nothing left? A student was meant to surpass the teacher not die a premature death.

Slowly, surely, she placed a half-mask over her face and disappeared into the shadows.

Cu you bastard.

He was like a child to her. Her child.

Her hands balled into fists as her lips began to quiver.

 _You foolish bastard._

A shudder travelled down her spine. She couldn't believe it nor did she want to accept it.

The last one who'd ever understood her and her sorrows had left her alone again.

 _It wasn't fair._

He'd made a promise to her, and he was the only one whom she had believed would be able to fulfill it simply because it wasn't something that she had the heart to request of her creator.

Gone. He was gone. She couldn't feel his presence through her Runecraft anymore, and all he'd left her was a single vague message.

'Lich.'

She could remain still no longer.

This was her duty. More than anything, she had prey to hunt.

A life for a life.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading!**

 **Next Update: Vasto of White**

 **P a treon. com (slash) Parcasious**


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